


Mael-Gûl

by Crowdaughter



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BDSM, Canon - Outstanding AU/reinterpretation, D/s, Drama, M/M, This story is a slavefic. It contains explicit mature themes, Torture, War of the Ring, both physical and mental; abuse; Non-con and debatable consent. I mean it!, especially slash, very graphic descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 54
Words: 317,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowdaughter/pseuds/Crowdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. Mirkwood is a subjected realm and must give hostages to the other Elven realms as slaves. Legolas is the slave of Aragorn, who is a sadist. And to keep Legolas loyal to the Ranger, he is bound by a cruel spell: the <em>Mael-Gûl</em>... mature content!</p>
<p>This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found here:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <span></span><br/><span></span><br/><a href="http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373">
        <span>http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373</span>
      </a><br/><br/> </p>
<p>I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.<br/><br/><span>Warnings</span>:  This story is a <em>slavefic</em>. It contains explicit mature themes, especially <em>slash, BDSM, torture, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions, both physical and mental; abuse; Non-con and debatable consent. </em> I mean it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story Intro and Author's Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Mael-Gûl**  
_a **very dark** slash AU by Aislynn Crowdaugher_  
  
Author's Note:   
Welcome to the Dark Side! This story is a ride on the wild side, and it **is completely AU**. It is also very dark, and deals with very mature themes. In this world, all Elven Rings have been corrupted, and it did not leave the bearers of the Three unscathed. The outcome is very chilling. Please note that this is a **slash story** and a **slave fic** with explicit sexual content, very explicit decriptions and very mature themes. Therefore, the story is rated strictly adult. _Please heed the warnings!_ Otherwise, enjoy the ride! 

About the content:  
This story is based loosely on the _Movieverse_ , with a few book elements. Please note, however, that - according to the setting of the AU - you will find several characters acting very differently in this story than they would be acting canon-wise; especially Galadriel, Elrond, Thranduil and their Elves, and, of course, Aragorn. _This is due to the settings given in the story._ **However,** _within the boundaries of the AU_ , I have tried to keep as close to (Movie-)canon as I can. Readers, if you wish to brave this story, please be aware that you are about to enter a world that is not only _**Arda very marred**_. This is an Arda where several things have _**gone seriously wrong**_. And the result is very chilling. _Please heed the warnings!  
_  
This story started out as kind of an experiment: it was first inspired by a Plot Bunny of Cheysuli, that she offered up for adoption: Mirkwood Elves are kept as pleasure-slaves. Legolas is the slave of Aragorn, who is a jerk. When Aragorn takes him with him on the Ring Quest and the others of the fellowship find out, Aragorn offers to share his slave with them to keep them from attacking him. Aragorn was to be the bad guy without any redeeming qualities. This Plot-Bunny was adopted by Bluegold in her thrilling story "Bound", that can be found here: <http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue>  
  
I have always been fascinated by stories in which the good guys either turn bad or have to fight their own demons, so my interest was peaked by the setting. However, when I read "Bound", the basic ideas of BlueGold's story settled within my head and and began to grow and multiply. What if Aragorn was *not* the irredeemable bad guy, but matters were much more complicated? And how keep a slave loyal who accompanied his master everywhere and was supposed to fight and guard his back?  
So, I asked BlueGold if she would mind if I wrote a similar story based on her idea, and she gave her permission. Here it is. Hopefully my story will be original enough and different enough from Bluegold's to avoid the dangers of plagiarism. The idea of the _Mael-Gûl_ , or _Rhach e-Maelangwedh_ (Lust-Spell, Curse of Lustchain) however is entirely mine.  
  
About the LACE:  
_For the purpose of this story_ , the "Laws And Customs of the Eldar" (LACE) are just what we are told they are, _given the context_ in which they are told to us in Morgoth's Ring: A story told by a mortal man (Ælfwine) to other mortal men about an account given to him by some Elves about their laws and customs. _Nothing more_. We do not know if the Elves who supposedly told Ælfwine about their customs were telling the truth (as they believed it), or if they even existed and were not entirely made up by Ælfwine in the first place. We do not know for which purpose Ælfwine told his story, or if he just made up the tale as a moral example for his fellow men.   
  
In any case, the account given as LACE are what those Elves (or Ælfwine) _wanted us to believe_ the Laws and Customs of the Eldar to be. _Not necessarily the truth_. You will find that the Elves in "Mael-Gûl" act and behave very differently than those in Ælfwine's account.  
  
Warnings:   
This story is a _slavefic_. It contains **very mature themes** , especially _slash (male/male), BDSM, torture, use of toys, dominance/submission, *very* graphic descriptions, both physical and mental; abuse both physical and sexual; Non-con and debatable consent.  
_ This fic is very dark. **Please heed the warnings!** _Don't read if you don't like!_  
I will give special warnings for especially problematic chapters, and hints how to skip them if you wish to do so.  
  
Rated: Mature. Very strictly adults only.  
  
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas (mainly), Boromir/Legolas, Gimli/Legolas, Others/Legolas.   
  
Disclaimer: The universe I play in is not mine; I just borrow, and without permission. I make no money out of this. LOTR and all its characters were created by J.R.R. Tolkien and are owned by the Tolkien Estate, save a few original characters of mine in side roles. Peter Jackson made the Movies. And the setting of the story is inspired by a plot bunny of Cheysuli and the story "Bound" by BlueGold, as mentioned above (see author's note). I use similar plot ideas with her permission. The idea of the _Mael-Gûl_ , or _Rhach e-Maelangwedh_ (Lust-Spell, Curse of Lustchain) however is entirely mine.   
  
Feedback: Yes please! Send to Aislynn.Crowdaughter@gmx.net, or simply comment. This is my first LOTR fic, and I am no native speaker. Any comments welcome, including about grammar!   
  
Languages: I am no great expert in Sindarin and have no clue to its grammar, therefore I will just use a few words of this language in this fic. So whenever Aragorn is speaking with Elves, consider the conversation is taking place in Sindarin, except if explicitly differently mentioned. At the council or among the Fellowship, he and everybody else is talking in Common Speech or Westron, except if differently mentioned.   
  
And now: On with the story!


	2. Prologue

**Mael-Gûl**  
 _a **very dark** AU by Aislynn Crowdaugher_  
  
  
 **Prologue**  
  
  
 **I.**  
  
 _Of the History of the Elves, Library of Mithlond, Fourth Age (unknown historian):_  
  
"The Third Age of Middle Earth was a time of great sorrow, and it saw the corruption of the Elven Realms.  
  
The Last Alliance brought about the defeat of Sauron, and the One Ring was claimed by Isildur, only to become lost along with him. The Elves, thinking it gone, began to use the three Elven Rings. But they were wrong in their belief that the Three were pure, because in truth all rings had been touched by Sauron. Using them, their bearers became corrupted. Only Cirdan, who had never used his ring, escaped. And so, only a few decades after the end of the Second Age, there was war again, and it took the ugly face of Kinslaying.  
  
Elrond and Galadriel blamed the Elves of Greenwood the Great for the death of Gil-galad in the Last Alliance, claiming that without Oropher's stubborn refusal to follow the command of Gil-galad, and thus the untimely loss of two thirds of his warriors, the whole war would have taken another course, being won sooner and leaving Gil-galad alive at the end. Thranduil, Oropher's son and king of the Greenwood following his death, was held responsible for the disaster on the Gladden Fields, for it was due to Thranduil's tardiness that so many Orcs had been hiding in the southern Greenwood and could prepare the ambush that led to Isildur's death and the loss of the One Ring. The rulers of Imladris and of Rivendell said the Greenwood Elves had caused all this by their constant disobedience and failure to cooperate with the Noldor. So, the Noldorin dominated realm of Rivendell and its allied realm of Lothlorien attacked Thranduil of Eryn Galen, later known as Taur-nu-fuin.  
  
The Greenwood Elves fought bravely, but they had lost two thirds of their warriors in the War of the Last Alliance, and they had neither the numbers not the strength to match their opponents. They were beaten into submission. Thranduil had to pay homage, and was forced to give tribute and hostages once every yen(1). Those hostages were kept as slaves.  
  
For even after the defeat and subjugation of the Greenwood Elves, the rulers of Lothlorien and Imladris were not satisfied, but determined to keep them under their harsh rule. Elrond and Galadriel were to blame the Greenwood Elves for the renewed multiplication of Orcs after the first millennium of the Third Age had passed; they blamed them for the new darkness in the south of the Greenwood, which then came to be called Mirkwood by mortal men. It was Orcs who finally caught and tortured Celebrian, the wife of Elrond, wounding her so grievously that she fled Middle Earth for Valinor. Thus, the two Elven rulers found ever new reasons to keep the Greenwood Elves in subjugation and take hostages from them.  
  
Some of the hostages were of noble birth, among them most of the members of Thranduil's family. One of these hostages was Thranduil's youngest son, Legolas, who was taken by Elrond and used by him as a pleasure slave. Later, Elrond decided to give this slave to his adopted human son: Aragorn, destined to become the king of men. Aragorn was afflicted by a grim curse: he needed his lovers suffering in pain to reach his own completion. And to make sure Legolas would serve his mortal master faithfully, he was bound to him by a cruel spell: the _Mael-Gûl(2)_. But then, one day, when Aragorn went on the quest to destroy the One Ring, he took his Elven slave with him..."  
  
________________ o _____________  
  
 **II.**  
  
Legolas screamed. Pain ravaged his insides. Desperately he tossed and turned where he lay, clawing his hands into his hurting belly. He whimpered, then cried out again. His muddled, feverish mind could not longer tell him if it was night or day, if he was alone or not. It didn't matter. Only the pain mattered.  
  
Poison ravaged his entrails, and his body shivered in fever. He curled himself into a tight, little ball, but it did not give him relief, and he tried to uncurl again. "Estel!" he whimpered, "Estel... Master... please! ...Need... need.... please..." – But his master was not there.  
  
His parched lips were burning. His mouth was dry. His eyes were already too dry to cry any tears. He had a vague memory that he was in a room, in a bed, that there was water stored somewhere nearby. Feebly he tried to concentrate for long enough to reach for the nightstand. But he was already too weak to reach the water jug.  
  
Desperately, he cried out again, cried for help. But there was none.  
  
He drifted back again into his world of pain. Then he had the vague notion that there was someone there, and that someone gave his hurting body support, pressed a cup with water to his lips, whispered soft, soothing words. He drank thirstily, only a few gulps, then the cup was withdrawn and he cried in despair. He tried to grab whoever it was holding him, begged him to give him release:  
  
"Take me... take me... please... Estel!..."  
  
But he was alone again, the other one gone. Perhaps he had only dreamed his presence. He whimpered and cried again. "Estel... Please... help me... Master!... _Estel!!!..._ "  
  
But he was alone. His master was not there. He was not even in Rivendell.  
  
This time, it seemed that Aragorn son of Arathorn would probably not be back in time to save his slave again.  
  
__________________ o _____________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) A _yen_ is the Elven year, which lasts 144 human years. At the time the story takes place there have been about 20 yeni since Mirkwood was defeated. And every yen Mirkwood has to give away 12 hostages...  
  
(2) _Mael-Gûl - Sindarin_ , literally: Lust-Spell. _Mael_ means physical lust or pleasure; _Gûl_ has the meaning of sorcery, as in _Morgûl_.  
  
 **Author's note** : My sincere thanks go to Randy, who volunteered to beta for this part, and who did wonders with polishing the language and cleaning up the structure of the prologue. Thank you! With your gracious help, this part of the story is much better, now!


	3. Return to Rivendell

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: graphic sex, BDSM and non-con. _I mean it!_ Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.

_______________________________

 

\-- Part I : Return To Rivendell --

  
**I  Return to Rivendell**

  
Aragorn strolled back from Lord Elrond's study into the Hall of Fire after safely delivering the Hobbits into the care of Elrond's servants. He was on the way to his own chambers, but he was troubled. He had arrived at Rivendell about two hours ago. By now, word of his return should have spread widely enough, but his own, personal Elf remained curiously absent. Perhaps he had gone out to the shooting ranges, but even there a servant with word of Aragorn's return should have found him by now.  
  
Halfway through the hall, he met Erestor, and took the opportunity to ask.  
  
"Where is Legolas?"  
  
The Steward shrugged, obviously annoyed to be restrained from his current errands.  
  
"I do not know. In your rooms, I think. I have not seen him for some days."  
  
Aragorn frowned, growing concerned.  
  
"Not even at the meals?"  
  
Erestor gave him an annoyed look.  
  
"Aragorn, it is not my concern to look after your slave. If you are so concerned about him I suggest you look after him yourself!" he chided.  
  
Aragorn gave a silent curse, then he reined his temper in. It would not do to yell at Elrond's chief advisor, not if he wanted his help and cooperation later. He calmed himself and graced the Steward with a courtly nod.  
  
"Erestor, please!" he said politely, "You say you haven't seen him for some time. Wasn't he at the meals? Or with Lord Elrond?"  
  
Erestor shook his head. "As far as I know he has not left your rooms for about a week or so," he said offhandedly, "he may have eaten there if he was in the mood." He added icily: "Now if you will excuse me, I have duties to see to."  
  
Aragorn's hand sneaked out and grabbed the Elf's arm, preventing him of leaving. Erestor frowned and shook him off. "Let go of me, Dunadan!" he hissed, "You overstep your place!"  
  
Aragorn actually backed up a step, startled. It was easy to forget that the Noldor Elf once had been a warrior of Eregion before he took refuge in Elrond's house, but at this moment, it showed. But Aragorn had reached his goal at least for the advisor made no further effort to leave. Good. He had questions that needed an answer.  
  
Equally frosty he replied: "As you wish. I'll let you go in a moment, but first tell me if my brothers or Glorfindel are in Rivendell?"  
  
Erestor gave him an angry stare.  
  
"You know that they are not! Lord Glorfindel has been out and about to search for you and possibly defend Imladris from an attack of the _Ulairi(1)_. And the Lords Elrohir and Elladan are out hunting for Orcs and other servants of the enemy!"  
  
Aragorn paled, his face grim. "How long have they been away?" he demanded.  
  
Erestor gave a disinterested shrug.  
  
"They have been away for a fortnight now, as you mortals count time," he said. "Maybe a few days more. May I go now? I have errands to attend to, and the day is waning while we speak." He gathered his dignity around him like a coat and in a rush he went away.  
  
Aragorn forced himself to give him a bow, then he turned and hastened to his chambers. He cursed, heartily and thoroughly. Over two weeks! That meant Legolas had been in need at least for that long a time, maybe even longer. He would be positively ill by now.  
  
"I should never have tightened the spell that strongly!" he berated himself.  
  
He was nearly running when he finally reached his chambers. He found the Mirkwood Elf lying in his bed, rolled in to a ball, whimpering and shivering in fever. His eyes were dim and filmed over; at least they were still open. The normally shining golden hair was matted and entangled and completely filthy. The Elf couldn't have washed it for some days. The blanket had fallen away and apparently he had made no effort to retrieve it. The Elf wore a rank, sweaty nightgown, but Aragorn knew from past experience what he would find under the cloth: angry red welts spreading about the belly, a swollen anus, and a greyish, dry and icy skin. Legolas was on the brink. The poison that worked within his body had nearly killed him.  
  
Swearing, Aragorn bolted the door and slipped out of his cloak and weapons, then knelt by the shivering bundle on his bed. Carefully he took the stricken Elf into his arms.  
  
"Legolas!..."  
  
The Elf gasped.  
  
"Estel?!" His voice shook with renewed hope and desperation. "Estel! Please... Need..."  
  
Aragorn cursed again, then swallowed and kissed the shivering form in his arms gently on the forehead.  
  
 _Damn Erestor and his disdain for Mirkwood Elves! Damn his brothers and Glorfindel! Damn Lord Elrond! And, most of all, damn himself for ever letting it get so far!!!_  
  
"Shhh, all is well," he soothed. "I am here now. I will see to you, _melethron(2)_ , I will take care of you. Just give me a moment..."  
  
He placed another kiss on the Elf's sweaty brow and settled him carefully back down into the sheets. Legolas whimpered in protest and made a feeble attempt to clutch himself to him. Gently, Aragorn pried his hands away. "I will be right back!" he promised.  
  
Somebody – perhaps Lindir, or another friendly soul – had left a pitcher with water and a cup on the nightstand. So, the suffering Elf had not been entirely without help. Unfortunately, there had been just one person present in Rivendell these last two weeks who could have given him what he really needed to be healed, and for whatever reason that person had been unwilling to do so.  
  
Of course, given the state Legolas was in he might well have been suffering longer than that. It seemed that he had not been given relief since Aragorn himself had left over four weeks ago. Aragorn calculated that he must have been in need even when his brothers and Glorfindel left. And knowing Legolas, he would have been reluctant to trouble them with his problem when everybody was alarmed by the news of the Nazgûl freely roaming the country again and Imladris prepared itself for war.  
  
Quickly Aragorn slipped out of his clothes and boots and pushed them away. Judging his chances to get the sick Elf out of the soiled nightgown, he simply decided to make short work of the clothing and grabbed his knife. Placing it for the moment on the nightstand, he took the pitcher, filled the cup with water and went back to the side of his stricken companion.

Carefully and tenderly he gathered him back into his arms, supporting his head.  
  
"Drink, _melethron_ ," he soothed, "You need some fluids before I can take you. I will give you release in a moment, but you have to drink this water first."  
  
Legolas gasped, then sobbed; then he opened his mouth obediently and drank the offered water with deep, needy gulps. It was like balm to his chapped lips and his parched mouth and throat. Slowly the hope settled in his muddled mind that this was not a dream, that this time his master was really there. Aragorn meanwhile caressed one of the delicate pointed ears with his fingers, tucking the entangled tresses out of his way. He could not resist; he placed a kiss on the lobe, then licked along the frame and finally gently bit into it.  
  
Legolas gasped and nearly choked on the water. Luckily, the cup was nearly finished.  
  
Aragorn set the cup aside and took the knife. It was time to give his slave what he so desperately needed.  
  
"Let me get you out of that," he said, and grabbing the sweat soaked and filthy nightgown with one hand, he slowly began to cut the cloth away. Legolas' eyes had cleared a bit. He was still feverish, but the voice and the attention of his master had managed to calm him and the water had restored a bit of his strength. Now he was breathing hard in anticipation. He was still whimpering incoherently in Sindarin. "Need," and "Estel," and "Please," and "Master" were among the few words Aragorn could discern. Slowly the enormity of the situation made its way into his mind, and from there directly to his groin, where it started hot jolts of arousal. The stricken Elf in his arms was suffering and writhing in pain _because of him_ , because he had withheld himself from him and not given him what his slave so desperately needed. And now his slave was _desperate_ for him to take him, to give him release, although it would at first hurt him even more; entering the swollen, aggravated anus at this point would cause nearly unbearable torture for the Elf, but it was also the only way for Legolas to find release. The sheer amount of power he had over his slave made Aragorn's head swim and brought him to a sudden, hard, needy erection. And the raw need and writhing pain of his victim, who would welcome him in spite of the even greater pain he was about to cause, made his breath catch in desire.  
  
Legolas was suffering like that all for him. All because he needed him, and was dependent of the attentions of his cruel lover. With a determined jerk Aragorn ripped the ragged remnant of the sliced cloth off the body of his Elf and threw it away. "Let me admire you!" he commanded and watched the naked, writhing body in his arms.  
  
"You are beautiful like this, _melethron_ ," Aragorn whispered. "So beautiful! If there were not such a risk of losing you, I would bring you to this state more often, just to hear you cry your need for me! But I don't want to be bereft of you! I need you, _melethron_ , like you need me!"  
  
He was not sure if his slave even understood his words. Legolas was so deep in need that he was still nearly incoherent. All he obviously understood was his master's tone and his gravelly, excited and passionate voice.  
  
Deliberately Aragorn stroked over the swollen belly, knowing that his caress at the moment only brought more pain, and was delighted to hear his victim gasp and try to escape from the exploring hand. Since his Elf was still cradled within his arms, however, this movement settled him only firmer against Aragorn's body and brought his thighs into direct contact with his masters throbbing erection. Aragorn took a sharp breath. He placed another kiss on one of the delicate ears.  
  
"Let me get the oil, _melethron_ ," he whispered. "Then I will sheathe myself in you!"  
  
Without releasing the Elf out of his arms, he reached over to the nightstand, set the knife away and opened the small cupboard that held the oil he always kept there just for this purpose.  
  
Taking the vial out and setting it within easy reach, he renewed his caresses of the swollen belly of his slave with his other hand, relishing Legolas' feeble, hopeless attempts to escape the exploring hand that roamed over him. Then he bit again into the ear under his lips, this time a bit harder.  
  
"Of course," he added with perfect cruelty, "given your current state, it will hurt!"  
  
With this, he pushed the Elven slave out of his arms, caught him and rolled him around onto his back. Catching his wrists, he pressed them down into the sheets and straddled his helpless victim. He took the mouth of his slave in a deep, demanding kiss. He could feel the Elf reacting, rising up his groin against him in need and hope. He released his mouth and licked down the neck, then further down the breast until he reached the erect, slightly swollen nipples. For a few moments, he concentrated on tormenting them with both tongue and teeth. Then he carefully and slowly licked over the aching, hypersensitive belly. This wasn't painful for the slave, but drove him mad with need. He doubled his incoherent begging and the tossing of his head, and his groin began to sport the first signs of an erection. Aragorn grinned and closed his mouth over the waxing member of the Elf, licking and suckling it to full attention.  
  
Finally satisfied that the slave was as aroused as his master, he let go of Legolas' wrists, rolled off him and positioned himself before him. Then he reached for the vial and quickly coated his fingers, and himself. It was time!  
  
___________ o __________  
  
  
Legolas screamed as the sore, swollen flesh of his passage was pierced by an exploring finger. The pain was nigh unbearable, and he cried again, nearly choking on his own tears. The finger drove deeper, and he cried again, then stopped for sheer lack of air. Then the finger hit the sore, swollen gland that was the center of his problems, and he nearly lost consciousness as pain and pleasure exploded in his head. He rose and writhed against the intruding limb, trying to wriggle free, to get away, but was pressed brutally into the mattress by a strong and unforgiving hand. His legs were raised up against his tormentor's body, resting on its shoulders, and he could not escape him.  
  
"Be still!" his master harshly commanded. "I have to prepare you, and you know you need this!"  
  
He tried to obey, but the pain was just too great, and he continued writhing. Slowly and mercilessly his master began to massage the swollen, hurting gland, sending bolts of searing pain through his whole body. He cried, gasped and screamed again. Then his parched throat would not give more sound, and he stopped screaming, instead begging his tormentor tonelessly and incoherently to stop. The finger was withdrawn – only to return with another. He whimpered and begged his master to _please, stop,_ clawing into the sheets and trying to wriggle his legs away; but his tormentor held him fast with one arm and would not desist. Again the fingers were withdrawn, then there were three of them that entered him, stretching him mercilessly. He screamed for release, begged his master to stop the pain, but his voice was gone and he made no sound. All he could hear was Estel's voice, hoarse with passion, and his own ragged breathing. The pain was overwhelming.  
  
Finally the fingers were withdrawn. Frozen in terror, Legolas waited for what he knew would come next. Then it came when another thick column of hard flesh entered him in one thrust, hit directly on his gland and filled him up completely. He gave a deep, tearing sob and made a last attempt to escape the piercing flesh. It was no use. His tormentor's arms were tightly wound around his wriggling thighs and pressed them against his master's flat, hard breast, leaving him no room to get away. For a moment the invader merely remained sheathed within him, giving the passage some time to adjust; then the thrusting began and Legolas was taken to a whole new dimension of pain, losing all awareness of the outside world. Hurt was all he knew, mixed with pleasure, and even more hurt.  
  
He did not know that he had fallen into constant whimpering, that he was still begging to _please, stop, no more, mercy, please, master, Estel!!!_ – nor that his voice was so hoarse he hardly made a sound. He hardly was aware of anything except the continued thrusting within him, that hit him again and again and again, until he finally was filled with both the punishing member and warm fluid, and the pressure waned. The thrusting stopped. He sank back against the sheets, aching and exhausted, and began slowly to drift back to coherence again.  
  
____________ o __________  
  
  
Aragorn did not stop as his slave tossed and struggled against him, screaming and begging pitifully to be spared. Instead he continued to massage Legolas sweet spot methodically. As much as it was torture at this point, he knew the gland would welcome the attention. And the sooner the swollen gland stopped producing the deadly poison that threatened his slave, the sooner Legolas would heal. Of course to counteract the poison, his slave needed the only existing antidote: the living seed of his master. He had some trouble holding the tossing body of his slave; for a moment he regretted that he had not taken the time to tie him up. But in his current state the slave was already too weak to really get away.  
  
Legolas' helpless begging and hopeless wriggling against his body and against his roaming hand drove his arousal to new heights. The slave's erection had completely waned; even his sixty years of continued training by the enforced linking of pain and pleasure could not hold through so much pain. But Aragorn himself was so hard he already leaked. He knew if he did not enter Legolas soon, he would come then and there, wasting his precious seed instead of spending it within his slave. With an act of hard –bought discipline he forced himself to wait while he methodically stretched his slaves swollen passage until it could take him in. Finally the tight channel was widened enough and he withdrew his hand and positioned himself. Then he buried himself with one powerful thrust completely within Legolas.  
  
Blazing pleasure exploded in his brain and sent currents of pure bliss all through him. He stayed in his position a few moments, giving the living sheath around him some time to adjust, then he began to thrust. He adjusted his angle carefully to make sure he hit the gland, but all the same he was soon lost in mindless rutting. The nearly soundless whimpering and begging of his victim drove him to new heights. It did not take long, and with one last powerful thrust he finally released himself within the writhing body. Completely spent he let go of his slave's legs and collapsed over Legolas' prone, pliant body. He held him fast, safely embraced, hoarsely whispering endearments while he tried to regain his breath.  
  
He did not withdraw his limp member, though, but remained sheathed, both to prolong the bliss and to prevent his seed from draining out of his slave's body before it could do its work.  
  
Breathless he mumbled a steady stream of soothing endearments for his lover, caressing his face, his chest, his ears.  
  
"You are beautiful, _melethron_ ; you do not know what you do to me! You are beautiful like this. So open to my every touch, so needy, so responsive... I would have you this way always if I only could... you have been very brave, I am proud to own you... I need you, _melethron_ , I do not want to lose you... I always wish to have you..." he whispered. "Don't worry, _melethron_ , it will get better now, very soon. I'll have you again in a few moments. Just give me a moment! I'll just stay within you until I'm hard again..."  
  
Legolas didn't respond. He slowly drifted back into his semiconscious state, open and pliant to whatever his master would do to him, while the ejaculate within his body started to do its work. As Aragorn started to gently tease his nipples, then proceeded to thoroughly tweak and torture them, he hardly flinched and only whimpered again. He didn't need to do much more, though. All Aragorn needed at this point to get hard again was the still swollen belly under his touch, the small gasps when he bit into the delicate ears, and the helpless whimpering and wriggling of the slave whenever he moved within his still hurting passage; small sounds of pain mixed with need and incoherent begging both to stop hurting him and to take him once more.  
  
Aragorn took him three more times that night, giving him as much of himself as he could. It was near morning when he finally collapsed beside his Elf, holding him tightly, his head buried in the golden hair. Legolas slept peacefully within his arms; his eyes were closed now, but his body was finally healing. The repeatedly given seed of his master had done its work, acting as antidote and neutralizing the poison of the gland that had ravaged and nearly killed him. The gland itself was slowly receding to its normal size and his still aching anus was healing. Even the swelling of his entrails receded.  
  
His breathing was deep and normal now, and his skin slowly went back to its normal hue. The hair, though still tangled and filthy, started to shine again. The pain that had been constantly haunting him for the last two weeks was finally gone.  
  
_________________o _______________

  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) _Ulairi – Quenya_ : Ringwraiths. Plural.  
  
2) _melethron – Sindarin_ : beloved, lover.


	4. Questions

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________  
  
  
  
 **II. Questions**  
  
Aragorn woke a few hours later when the sun already stood high in the sky. Somebody knocked quietly at the door. Carefully, he disentangled himself from his bed partner, then took a moment to contemplate the Elf. Legolas was sleeping. He looked much better now, and his face was not a grimace of pain and need anymore, but relaxed and peaceful. His hair was filthy with sweat though, and he had obviously not washed himself for days. The Ranger nearly laughed at that thought. Both he himself and Legolas were positively stinking! And this happened to his prissy Elf who always tried that eagerly to keep himself – and his master – clean!  
  
He shook his head. "What have you done to yourself, Little Leaf?" he asked quietly, studying the closed eyes, the still too pale face. "Why didn't you seek help much sooner? I know how much you fear Lord Elrond, but still..."  
  
The knocking was repeated.  
  
Aragorn rolled himself from the bed and grabbed a tunic, quickly slipping into it. Then he made it quietly to the door. "I'm coming!" he whispered just loudly enough for Elven Ears to hear, "Just a moment!"  
  
His whisper was loud enough to be heard beyond the door, bur it stirred no reaction in the sleeping Elf within his bed. Legolas was dead to the world at the moment, and Aragorn knew he would remain so for a while. Yet rather than to risk waking him up too soon, Aragorn opened the door carefully and quietly.  
  
It was Lindir, delivering another jug with water, large enough to fill the wash stand at the corner, and a tray with a large plate of food.  
  
"Good day to you, Estel," he said quietly. "Erestor thought you might wish to spend the morning in your rooms, so I was sent to bring you some nourishment and something to wash up." He studied the Ranger for a moment and wrinkled his nose. "You seem to need it!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.  
  
"Lindir, what happened? Why was he in that state?" he demanded quietly but forcefully. "Legolas was nearly dying when I came!"  
  
Lindir cocked his brow and placed the tray with the food and the pitcher carefully on the floor. Then he turned to the _Adan(1)_.  
  
" _You_ happened, Ranger!" he replied angrily. "It was you who stayed absent for such a prolonged time! And it was you who bound him that tightly into that spell!"  
  
"I know what I did," Aragorn growled. "What I wish to know is why he did not seek help! Why did Lord Elrond take not care of him when it got that bad? Why didn't Legolas seek out his help?"  
  
Lindir's face was grim.  
  
"Erestor denied him," he said regretfully. "In the week before Glorfindel and the two young lords left, Legolas was needy, but it was not too bad yet. There was still some time until he would get worse and we all thought that you would be back soon; and if you were delayed the other three lords expected to be back even sooner. So Legolas decided not to bother them. The next week it got bad, but Erestor claimed Lord Elrond was too busy to waste his time on a needy slave. Then Arwen brought Frodo to Rivendell and Erestor's claim became true. Lord Elrond stayed in the healing wing nearly the whole week trying to save the Hobbit, and hardly left Frodo's side even to sleep or eat. But at this point Legolas had already become so ill, that he could no longer leave your rooms."  
  
Lindir shook his head. "I tended to him as best as I could, and even would have brought him to the healing ward myself, but he would not allow it. He still hoped that you would make it back in time."  
  
Aragorn made a face.  
  
"I would have done so, but I had three Hobbits to guide through the wilds and to protect," he said bitterly. "Even so, the healing wing would not have availed him. You know the consequences of the spell. There is but one medicine to his illness, and he would not have found it there! Not while Elrond had to spend all his strength and time on healing Frodo." He sighed. "And all that just because Gandalf and I both thought an Elf in Bree would be too suspicious given our current need for secrecy! I should have taken him with me, Gandalf's wishes be damned!"  
  
Lindir merely looked at him. "Is he better now?" he asked with concern.  
  
Aragorn gave him a grateful look. He nodded.  
  
Lindir was both a Noldor Elf and free, but he was friendly and he treated Legolas almost as an equal and a friend. Indeed he cared little about station and rank and ignored it whenever he could get away with it. It was rare that one of the Noldor of Rivendell would go as far as to befriend a slave, although most of them tended to treat their slaves well, at least usually. But Erestor was a special case. He never had liked Legolas. Nor had Lord Elrond.  
  
"Yes, he is healing," Aragorn replied. "But it was a close call. I almost lost him! He was already on the brink when I came."  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Thank you for the food," he said. "I think I let him sleep another hour, then get some food into him. Afterwards we'll have to take a bath. Could you please have the bathing chambers prepared in two hours? And send somebody to change the sheets and clean up while we are there? I'll let him sleep as long as he needs afterwards, but I'd rather have him sleep in a clean bed." He smiled a bit. "While I may be used to sleeping in my grime when I am in the wilderness, I seem to recall that Legolas does not relishes it."  
  
More seriously, he added: "And I think he really needs more rest."  
  
Lindir grinned widely. "You _both_ need it!" he said pointedly. "The sleep, and the bath, too!"  
  
With that teasing remark he turned and walked away. Aragorn shook his head, picked up the tray and slipped back into the room. He placed the tray carefully on a table, covered it with a cloth and went back to get the pitcher. Then he closed the door, got rid of his tunic and crawled back into bed beside his Elf.  
  
For a moment he contemplated his sleeping lover again. Legolas seemed still much too frail for his liking. It would take yet some time for the Elf to recover fully, and even more time before he could be subjected to harsher play again. Still... to have this pliant body at his mercy, to hear him beg and try to get away just to finally submit and accept the inevitable as he did last night...  
  
Aragorn glanced longingly at the big trunk near the bedside that held all the intricate toys he loved to use on the body of his slave during their love play when they were here in Rivendell. Alone in the wilds he had dreamed for weeks what he would do to this pliant body and which toys he would use on him when he was back. He planned to make it special, a careful play of slowly increasing pain, giving Legolas time enough to adjust and thereby making sure that he could bear it. Just the thought made him hot and hard again.  
  
Sighing, he settled himself comfortably back against the body of his Elf, careful not to disturb his bed partner's sleep. There would be ample time for that later. He would need to wait until Legolas was well and strong again, recovered both in mind and body, to make sure that he could take it. Legolas knew well that he needed these sessions once in a while to store up memories that could help him get hard and needy for his slave when they were both out in the wilds where they could not do a lot to satisfy his needs. And afterwards he would make sure to give Legolas some time to rest, then see to it that his slave got the chance to enjoy their coupling, too.  
  
  
_____________________ 0 ___________________  
  
  
Legolas woke to callused hands caressing his skin. At last he was free of pain again. Beside him he could feel the known and trusted presence of his master, covering him in Estel's – currently rather pungent – smell. Contemplating this he wrinkled his nose. They both smelled bad, reeking of sex and sweat and badly in need of a bath. He felt his masters hand wander over his chest and belly, down to his thighs, then up to his face again, finally tracing the line of his left ear.  
  
He opened his eyes.  
  
"Estel," he acknowledged contentedly. "You are back, My Lord."  
  
Aragorn smiled down at him. "Good afternoon," he greeted. "Yes, I am back. And just in time, it seems."  
  
Legolas flushed a bit and lowered his lashes. "I'm sorry, My Lord," he said, "I should have come to greet you. I am afraid I was ... not well."  
  
Aragorn shook his head.  
  
"No. You were very weak," he said. He sighed. "I came back just in time to save you last night, Little Leaf. Had I not taken you then, it might have been too late." He traced the face of his slave again, then his hand seized Legolas chin and turned the head to him with gentle pressure. "I have to say that I was rather shocked to find you in that state. Why did you not seek help? Do you not know that I do not wish to lose you?"  
  
Legolas blushed in shame.  
  
"I thought..." he began , then interrupted himself and lowered his lashes even more.  
  
"I am sorry, My Lord. I should have been more careful." His voice weakened to a whisper while he finished humbly: "I request punishment if you would grace me with it."  
  
Aragorn sighed. He felt he slight shivering of his slave and saw the smear of dried blood between his thighs, and both sent jolts of arousal to his groin. Yet he ignored it. Right now was not the time for _that_.  
  
"Maybe I'll punish you," he said, "but if I do, it will be much later. You are still much too weak now, _melethron_ , and far too pale. And you are thin. Given the chance the sun would shine through you! No, I think first I'll have to get some food within you and let you heal some more."  
  
Legolas sighed with relief, although the promise of a later punishment sent flutters through his stomach. Well, he knew his master's needs and was long used to them. If he was lucky Aragorn would give him some time before he decided to put him through anything thorough, and maybe afterwards he would be content with that one treatment for a while. Normally Estel took pains to make sure that his slave could bear what he had planned for him, even if it was harsh. And perhaps there would be some reward later.  
  
He loved the times when Estel made gentle love to him and even allowed him to take the active part, though they were rare. Estel normally didn't get hard enough to take him at these times. He would only get hard and reach completion if he hurt his lover, or could draw on earlier occasions of inflicting pain. Therefore such tenderness, while it did much to make their arrangement bearable for Legolas, would not give him what he needed of his master to stay alive.  
  
But it made those times when Estel used and hurt him to the brink of his endurance much easier to bear.  
  
He dared to look up again.  
  
"I am sorry you found me in this state, Estel. It was not planned this way."  
  
Aragorn snorted.  
  
"I hope that," he said. "For as arousing as it was to see you desperate and needy for me like you were last night, that was far too close. I do not wish to lose you, _melethron_. And I don't ever wish to see you in that state again save I deliberately had condemned you to it."  
  
He saw Legolas' sudden fear and horror at his words and even while the thought to have such power heightened his arousal and made his groin twitch with desire he inwardly cursed himself. _This was not the time to play, not even with mere threats!_ Quickly he placed a kiss on his slave's brow.  
  
"But of course I will never do that!" he said. "You are far too precious to me to risk you so. Really, _melethron_ , if I ever should be delayed again for such a prolonged time, I order you to seek out help much sooner!"  
  
The Elf nodded silently. He seemed still a bit dazed and not fully coherent. Aragorn sighed and took his mouth in a tender kiss. "I do not wish to lose you," he repeated then. "I care about you, Little Leaf, and I do not wish to cause your death!"  
  
"I... am alive, Estel;" Legolas said hesitantly. "You have healed me well."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Let us rather say that I've been just in time and you are on the way of getting better," he chided. "I think I have to take you one more time at least to get you fully healed."  
  
He felt Legolas' slight shiver in his arms, fear of the pain this would include, and felt regret at it. How long had it been since their coupling brought his Elf more joy than pain and since that pain was merely part of his own arousal instead of its key? Had there even ever existed such a time for him? He could not remember. By now desire, power and cruelty were so firmly linked for him that it took quite a lot of it to get him hard and ready. And Legolas always paid the price for that.  
  
"Don't fear, _melethron_ ," he soothed, "for now I'll just feed you a bit and then we bathe. I hope the servants will have cleansed the room and changed the sheets when we are back. You need to sleep some more and I would have you do so in a clean bed. I fear that currently even the bedroll I brought from my last journey smells better than this place!"  
  
The Elf actually smiled.  
  
"I fear it does, Estel!" he said. Then he colored slightly and asked hesitantly:  
  
"You found... the way you found me... you thought it was arousing?"  
  
Aragorn studied him for a moment. There was some hidden meaning in this question he could not discern. But it could wait. He would force Legolas to tell him what he meant by this question later. For the moment he just petted the naked body in his arms some more and placed a kiss on top of the golden haired head. "I did," he admitted, "very much so. But the price for this is much too high. I would not bring you to this point again, if I can help it. Not willingly."  
  
He kissed his Elf again, this time on the mouth. "Do not fear," he said gently, "I wouldn't."  
  
Legolas sighed. Aragorn let go of him and stood up. He stepped to the table and took the tray with the waiting food, bringing it to the bed. Then he went back to fetch the pitcher and filled their cups with water. "Come on," he said, "let's get you fed for now."  
  
Legolas stomach came alive with a growl. Aragorn smiled. "I dare not ask," he said, "but I'll wager that you haven't eaten for several days. Didn't Lindir make sure you had a meal or two while you were here?"  
  
Legolas eyed the slices of bread, fruits and cheese and the two bowls of porridge hungrily, but he seemed doubtful. "He did, master," he said apologetically, "but I could not keep it down." He bit his lips. "I... "  
  
Aragorn cursed. He settled down beside his Elf again. "Let me feed you," he commanded, taking a spoon. "We'll be careful. You eat slowly and don't take too much; this way you should be able to keep it." He shook his head again and carefully, spoon by spoon, began to feed the porridge to his slave. "Really, _melethron_ , I hate to see what this spell does to you. Elves are not supposed to get ill, you know. This should be _my_ domain in our relationship."  
  
Legolas swallowed his current morsel and sneaked a slice of fruit. "I am sorry, master", he repeated. "I will try to remember it the next time I have to tend to you."  
  
His eyes were dancing, reminding Aragorn of the last time they had been out in the wilds and Aragorn grew ill.  
  
It had rained for weeks and he had caught a cold that seemed to linger until he was dizzy, suffering and miserable. Legolas made sure they found a cave, had lit a fire, kept him warm, tended to him for days and patiently cooled his brow when his fever made him toss and turn. After he finally recovered his Elf was exhausted and very much in need of him. That night, Aragorn thoroughly tied him up and used some spanking, nettles and some thorns to torment his slave as lightly as he could until he was aroused enough to take him. When he had finally fed the spell enough to restore Legolas' health he had thanked him by tenderly making love to him with mouth and hands until his Elf was completely aroused, then allowed himself to be entered. Afterwards he had sworn him to secrecy lest Aragorn's brothers and his foster-father should learn he allowed himself to be taken by his slave. Not because he was ashamed of it, but because he knew quite well how they would react.  
  
That had been years ago. Lately it was rare that he allowed Legolas to enter him, or that Legolas even seemed to want it.  
  
Aragorn mock-glared at his slave and knocked his head lightly and playfully. At least Legolas' mood seemed to have cheered up again if he even dared to tease his master. It was a good sign, and lately far too rare.  
  
When they finished eating – the Elf stopping much sooner than Aragorn liked, but Legolas claimed he could not get down any more – Aragorn helped his weakened bed partner up. Then he had to support him while Legolas fought a sudden surge of dizziness and nausea. Aragorn helped him to sit down on the bed again. Legolas sobbed, fighting his churning stomach, shivering and trembling. "I am sorry, master," he stammered desperately, "I...I..."  
  
Aragorn supported him and patiently rubbed his back. "Shh! That was to be expected. You haven't been up for almost a week! Don't worry. Fight the sickness, we do not want you to lose that food again. It will pass in a moment. Shh..."  
  
Legolas obeyed. After a moment he said with regret: "I am afraid my legs won't carry me just yet, master."  
  
Aragorn reined his temper in. It would not do to take his anger at his foster-father, his brothers and Glorfindel out on his stricken Elf.  
  
"It is all right. They don't have to!" he said and wrapped Legolas in a clean sheet. Then he donned a tunic, swept his slave up in his arms and simply carried him to the bathing chambers.  
  
  
_______________ o __________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Adan_ \-- Sindarin: Human, man, as in _Dunadan (plural: Dunedain)_ – Man of the West


	5. Promises

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **III. Promises**  
  
  
The bath took some time since Aragorn not only had to wash and shrub his Elf – and himself – thoroughly, but he found he also needed to prevent Legolas from falling asleep and accidentally drowning in the warm water. He dried him up and clad him in clean clothes Lindir had prepared for them in the chamber, then placed him on a bench and tended to himself. When they got back, the Elf he carried in his arms was drowsy and nearly asleep.  
  
Their chamber had been cleansed and the sheets were changed. The windows were open, but the drapes were closed, allowing fresh air and birdsong in but protecting their privacy from nosy glances.  
  
Sighing, Aragorn placed his elf in the clean bed, then disrobed him again. Afterwards he undressed himself. He went back to the bed and shook his slave awake.  
  
Legolas was startled and took some time to get his mind to focus. He stared wide-eyed at his master, fearing what was to come.  
  
Aragorn kissed him, then looked at him solemnly. “I need you to stay awake for me a few more moments,” he said.  
  
Legolas stared at him and nodded, his wearyness swept away by rising fear.  
  
Aragorn took his face between his hands, settling himself cross-legged in front of him.  
  
“You have given me great scare, _melethron_ ,” he said gravely. “Last night was unbelievable for me, and I thank you for that. But for you it nearly was too late. I know I am a harsh master to you and my needs are hard for you to bear. But you mean much to me, and I do not want to lose you.”  
  
He held his lover's gaze.  
  
“Please, Legolas. Promise me that next time I am delayed or can’t come to you in time to meet your needs, you will seek help much sooner! Promise me!”  
  
He cursed softly as the Elf shook his head and demanded again: “Promise it!”  
  
Legolas blushed.  
  
“Please, Estel, you know that is not in my power. It is not for me to decide if Master Glorfindel, or the Lords Elrohir and Elladan, or even L... Lord Elrond... would wish to spare time to indulge a lowly slave. And I _am_ just a slave as they do not hesitate to remind me.” It sounded bitter; Aragorn's brows drifted down and Legolas hung his head, startled by his reaction. “Forgive me, master, it was not my station...”  
  
Aragorn caught his mouth in a kiss, preventing him from continuing.  
  
“No, it was not,” he agreed when he finished the kiss. “However, you are right. You can not force them to help you. But I will speak to them and remind them that you belong to me, and since I do not want to lose you due to their neglect if I can’t tend to you myself it is their responsibility to help you at need. After all I would just ask them to take care of you when I am hindered to be with you without fault of my own. And they would not refuse to tend my horse when I am forced to leave it here for a time. So the same should be true for you.”  
  
The slave blushed deeply. It pained him to be compared to a horse. Unfortunately the truth was that to Elrond and his two older sons Aragorn's horse was probably of much more worth than Aragorn's slave. Still, to hear his master – to hear _Estel!_ – phrase it like that...  
  
Aragorn seized his chin and tipped it up so that Legolas met his gaze again.  
  
“And you mean much more to me than a horse,” he reassured his Elf. “You know that I would free you if I could, Little Leaf.”  
  
The Elf looked at him, dumbfounded.  
  
“You would?” he asked startled.  
  
“If I could break that spell? Yes!” Aragorn said bitterly. “I would love to have you as my lover and stay with me as my companion out of your free will, but I could well understand if you would rather flee me as far as you could if you but had the choice. Be that as it may, we both know that it is not possible. And for that I am sorry.”  
  
Legolas was silent.  
  
Finally he hesitantly asked: “Do you... are you angry at me, Estel? Do you wish not to be burdened with me any longer?”  
  
Aragorn looked at him incredulously, then grabbed him harshly and stared hard into his eyes. “Are you mocking me?”  
  
Seeing the startled look of his slave, he relented. He shook his head.  
  
“Did I give you the impression that I want to lose you?” he said quietly. “No! No, I do _not_ want to lose you! I am glad to have you and glad for your loyalty to me, glad for the service you give me, both in bed and otherwise. But I know that my needs are hard for you to bear. I’d understand it if you would rather have another master.”  
  
Legolas jerked and he held him fast. Hesitantly the slave dared to look up again and meet his masters gaze. Aragorn held his gaze, calming him with his intent look.  
  
Finally, Legolas took a deep breath and relented his tension. Boldly, he dared to offer his master a kiss himself. Then he said earnestly: “I do not wish another master, Estel. ‘Tis true that your need for my pain is hard for me to bear at times, but I can deal with it. And I rather have you as my master than your brothers or the Lord Glorfindel.” He shuddered. “Or... the Lord Elrond,” he finished in a whisper.  
  
Aragorn shook his head. He did not know what precisely Elrond had done to Legolas, but he knew the Lord of Imladris held a strong dislike for the young Mirkwood Elf and tolerated him only for Aragorn's sake.  
  
Still... “You forget your place, Little Leaf,” he chided gently. “I thank you for your loyalty. But you have no call to speak derisively of Lord Elrond. I will have to punish you, and I will do so certainly tonight, or at least the night after. But you did not answer my demand.”  
  
He looked at him seriously. “I mean it, Legolas. Promise me! Promise me that next time you will seek help before it gets that bad again!”  
  
Legolas hung his head. The threat of punishment was no surprise to him, since he could discern from Aragorn's tone that his master had planned to take him harshly during one of the coming nights anyway. It was nothing more than he had expected. Yet there was one more truth for him to share, and he did not know how Aragorn would react.  
  
“I thought you would come back sooner,” he explained, “and you would be... delighted if I was... in need...” he swallowed. “So I convinced Lord Glorfindel to let me wait for you.” He blushed deeply. “It was my fault. I am sorry, Estel! I just thought... you would be...”  
  
Aragorn sighed. So that had been the plan. He suspected it had been originally devised by his brothers, and they had been the ones to give Legolas the idea. He should have been furious, but he had already nearly guessed as much by now. Besides, unfortunately, they had not been very far off the point. They knew well what he liked.  
  
Still, Legolas skillfully avoided giving him the promise he asked. It was maddening.  
  
He concentrated on his Elf again. Legolas was trembling in his grip by now.  
  
“And you were right, I was delighted,” he admitted. “Or I _would_ have been, if you had not been nearly on the brink of death. Truly, that price is much too high. I mean it, Legolas. Give me your word!”  
  
Finally the Elf in his grip sighed and nodded.  
  
“I promise it, Estel,” he said. “If anything like this should happen again, if you are delayed or hindered to come to me in time and there is any other near who can give me release, I promise I will then go to that other one and beg him to help me.”  
  
Aragorn nodded solemnly and kissed him again.  
  
“Good,” he said then, “I will hold you to it. Because, my Little Leaf, you are precious to me and it would grieve me greatly if you died.”  
  
And with that he started to make love to his Elf, carefully and thoroughly and for once nearly without pain. At first he did not get aroused himself and just concentrated on making Legolas squirm with pleasure and desire. Then the memory of the helpless, stricken condition of his slave the night before took hold of him and got him hard and needy. He took care to bring his partner to climax with his mouth before he started to prepare him to be entered; and when he finally sheathed himself in Legolas, mindful not to hurt him by going too fast, it was the anticipation of what he would do to his slave the following night that took him to new heights. He could not help setting a hard, punishing pace after he got that far, but by then his slave was thoroughly relaxed and welcomed it for once. When he finally came within his slave, he took Legolas with him.  
  
Afterwards, he stayed within the body of his Elf a bit before he finally withdrew. By then, Legolas was dozing in his arms. Carefully slipping out of bed behind him, Aragorn got up, placed a last kiss on his Elven lover's cheek and cleaned himself. He donned his clothes and slipped out of their room, leaving Legolas to peaceful Elven dreams.  
  
  
_________________0_________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --


	6. Elrond's Decision

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy for polishing this chapter and making it so much better! All remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
**VI. Elrond's Decision**  
  
  
Lord Elrond looked up when his chief advisor entered the door, interrupting his impromptu meeting with his recently arrived, well honored Elven guests. He raised a brow and gave him a questioning glance, asking mildly: "Yes, Erestor?"  
  
Lord Elrond's chief counselor and household steward seemed peeved.   
  
"A delegation of Mirkwood Elves just arrived to see you, My Lord," he said with obvious disgust. "They say they bring an urgent message from their king, Thranduil. Should I let them enter?"  
  
Elrond's face darkened. "What it is this time, I wonder?" he muttered.   
  
Lord Galdor of the Havens, a high ranking Noldo in the service of Lord Cirdan, Shipwright of Mithlond, perked up with interest. "Thranduil you say?" he asked. "I thought he is under your rule, My Lord Elrond. Did you invite him to this council, too?"  
  
Gildor Inglorion, another Noldorin Lord of high rank who was under no one's rule save his own and preferred to wander Eregion with his people, raised his brows. "The invitation to partake went to all free people," he reminded, "or rather to all people not yet under the rule of Sauron. Technically that would include Thranduil's Elves, too."  
  
Elrond scowled. "They are hardly free," he said. "I know you are of a milder opinion in this, Lord Gildor, yet I think you give these Wood-Elves too much credit."  
  
Gildor graciously inclined his head. "Yet their tidings and their warriors may be an asset not easily dismissed in our need. I think they should be given the chance to partake in the council, My Lord Elrond, although you are king Thranduil's liege-lord."  
  
Elrond snorted. "Liege-lord? That would name him merely my vassal and would grant that self announced excuse for an Elvenking more honor than he deserves! He is allowed to keep his rule at my whim alone. And would it not mean far too much trouble to rule that wretched wood and its Elves directly, I would long ago have done away with him!"  
  
Erestor gave his liege-lord a approving bow, adding haughtily: "Besides, My Lord Gildor, My Lord Elrond is Thranduil's overlord. Mirkwood can be well represented by the Lord of Imladris himself. There is no need to allow those lowly Wood-Elves to participate!"   
  
Lord Galdor looked sceptically. "But should they not partake if only to deliver their message? Surely at this point everything that happens in the realms not yet under the Shadow's rule are of concern and should be heard by the whole council, should they not? And we could then weigh their knowledge and news together with all other tidings, and they could learn our news as well and take them home."  
  
Gildor nodded. "I think they should be admitted, if only to fulfill the requirements Mithrandir mentioned to us," he said thoughtfully. "Thranduil's realm may be subjected to yours and he may be under your rule, yet he still has some part to play in this fight against the darkness."  
  
The lord of Rivendell looked quite displeased at his suggestion.  
  
"Thranduil!" Elrond growled. "That stubborn fool! A part to play against the darkness, you say? Just see how his wood is faring and you might reconsider that idea. Always he is trying to obstruct me or to ignore my orders! Always it is _'I need my warriors to fight against the Shadow'_ or _'I do not have enough warriors to do that'!_ And always he is trying to rebel! Last time I sent a company of Dwarves to his realm on some mission that had my favor, and what does he do? Instead of treating them as honored guests, sent to him by his overlord, he imprisons them within his dungeons!"  
  
Elrond's oldest son, Elladan, shrugged. He sat beside his father in a comfortable chair and had listened to the conversation up to this point silently and completely bored. Now he said mildly: "Well, as far as old Bilbo told the story Thorin did not tell Thranduil that you had send him, father. To be exact he did not tell Thranduil _anything_. I deem the Mirkwood king had reason to be suspicious about those Dwarves."  
  
Elrond scowled. He dismissed the notion with an angry gesture. "Anyway! He should have been more humble! He only lives and continue to rule by my grace alone!" he said.   
  
Lord Galdor said: "These Silvain Elves always had their own head..."  
  
Elrond looked grim. "Thranduil is Sindar. And he is as stubborn as his late father Oropher! I really contemplated denying myself to him at the last _yen_ ceremony, shortly after the affair with those Dwarves, and thereby letting him die. That would have taught those obstinate Mirkwood Elves a lesson. But Celeborn objected. He said we still needed Thranduil to fight against the Shadow. I was not greatly surprised; Thranduil is his distant kinsman after all. But he insisted, and so I finally relented."  
  
Gildor gasped. "The king... is under the _**Mael-Gûl?!**_ "   
  
Elrond snorted. "Of course! How else do you think we ensured his cooperation for twenty yen?" he asked. "He is bound himself, and nearly every hostage of his family and of the nobles he was forced to give us since are bound as well. Though in his case the spell is not wound very tightly. It would be tiresome otherwise!"  
  
Either he did not see the utter horror in Lord Gildor's eyes or he chose to ignore it. With a dismissive shrug he continued: "I gave him what he needed, but I made sure that he gave me his son Legolas as hostage in return, as a plaything for the use of my sons!"  
  
He smiled grimly. "You should have seen him! How he begged me to take him instead, how he offered to accept death or even torture, how he was nearly up in arms even knowing that his warriors were too few and could not stand against me! But in the end he subsided when I threatened that I would see all Mirkwood razed to the ground and his whole family killed if he refused to cooperate. Then I forced him to watch while I put his son under the _Mael-Gûl!_ "  
  
He chuckled with dark pleasure. "He nearly died of grief! It is well that an Elf under the spell can not give up his body and himself that easily, and will not die of sorrow nor rape nor the disturbance of a bond! Or else what use would this spell be to us to keep those Elves in line? We can not allow them to escape to Mandos! I even forbade the Mirkwood Elves as a whole to go over the sea since we shall need them here to fight the Shadow."  
  
Gildor swallowed and shuddered. _It was true then._ Cirdan was right: the Shadow had truly already touched Imladris deeply, even if the Last Homely House remained still beyond the direct grasp of Sauron. Maybe the Shipwright's claim was true that all the rings were evil and even the Three had been corrupted. Elrond at least seemed thoroughly touched by the Shadow's influence.   
  
He swallowed again. "So the young Thranduilion 1 is now the slave of your sons?" he asked.   
  
Elrond shook his head. "Not anymore," he answered. "I took special pleasure in offering him to my foster-son Estel, when he came of age. " He smiled. "They seem to get along quite well," he mused. "It is somewhat astonishing indeed, given Estel's rather... special needs. But he seems quite taken with that Mirkwood spawn. And Legolas seems loyal enough to him, too."  
  
Lord Galdor drew his brows together. "Legolas?" he asked, "The archer? Thranduil's youngest? Did you allow him to keep his weapons? That Elf has quite a reputation with the bow, as I recall!"  
  
Elrond shrugged. "He is bound to his master very tightly," he said. "And he has proven himself loyal so far. Of course he knows that if anything should happen to Estel we would let him die, and there is nobody else he could turn to. Besides, he would risk the lives of the other hostages as well if he rebelled."  
  
Glorfindel interjected: "Besides, young Estel treats him well enough outside their bed. Legolas really seems to like him! And it would be a shame to lose his bow against the Orcs. We need every skilled fighter we can get for our side in this war, be he free or not!"  
  
Gildor wrinkled his brows. "Maybe," he mused. "But how can we trust slaves against the Shadow? What if the enemy offers them to set them free?"  
  
Elrond shrugged again. "There is nothing the enemy can offer to those slaves," he said. "There is no way to break the spell even by the darkest means of Sauron. There is nothing they could hope to gain by allying themselves with the Shadow."  
  
Elladan added: "Legolas has proven himself a loyal companion. He would never betray us to the Enemy. And he is a skilled warrior who has slain many Orcs even before he came to us."  
  
Elrond's eyes narrowed. "You give that Mirkwood spawn far too much credit," he growled. "His place is in my foster son's bed, not at his side in his campaigns!" He grew thoughtful. "Maybe Estel should be forced to lend him out to you more often!"  
  
Elladan seemed taken aback. Beside him his twin Elrohir protested: "But _Ada 2!!!_"  
  
Gildor coughed. He decided to redirect the conversation.  
  
"My Lord Elrond," he said, "forgive my curiosity, but... your foster-son is mortal, is he not? He is one of the Dunedain. What will become of his slave when he dies? Wouldn't this condemn the slave to death as well?"  
  
Elrond gave a hard smile and shrugged again. "Possibly," he admitted. "I suppose that Estel always could decide to pass the slave on to his descendants." He made a dismissive gesture. "It doesn't matter. I suppose Thranduil himself will have to go to Mandos, too, once I cross the sea. Except if I decide to pass him on to Celeborn. But I doubt I will."  
  
Gildor was frozen in horror. "But – that would be Kinslaying!" he protested weakly.  
  
Elrond snorted. "Oh, _please!_ " he said. "You did not think we overthrew them without a fight in the first place, did you? I know you and your Elves stayed neutral in that war; so did Cirdan. But both of you have agreed to partake of the gains and accept the situation afterwards, and you have been our alleys ever since. It seems a bit late to me to raise the question of Kinslaying now."  
  
Gildor frowned. Galdor drew his brows together. Erestor shrugged and supported his Lord calmly and disdainfully: "It would be nothing more than what this obstinate Mirkwood King deserves, My Lord."  
  
Gildor swallowed. With some effort he shoved his horror and revulsion aside. _Now was certainly not the time to question or dissolve the current Elven alliances!_ He decided to abandon this train of thought and return to the original problem.   
  
"But what should be done now about this delegation?" he asked. "I still think they should be allowed to participate."   
  
Lord Galdor added: "And I would still vote to include their report at the council, where all gathered representatives can hear it, too. I would think it was important to hear all information that we have together."  
  
Glorfindel nodded. "You should let them participate," he counseled his liege-lord, "as representatives of Mirkwood. They can carry all the tidings and the decisions of the council home to their people afterwards, so they will be informed, too."  
  
Suddenly, Elrond had a splendid thought. "No," he said with an evil gleam in his eyes. "I do not think so. If Mirkwood shall be represented at the council by one of its Elves, let it be done by someone of appropriate rank. Let Thranduil be represented by his youngest son!"  
  
Gildor raised his brows. "Legolas? But you just said he is a slave!" he pointed out.  
  
Elrond nodded. "Exactly! It is perfect, is it not? After all he is Mirkwood's prince, undoubtedly fit to represent its people! And since he is a slave his rank will mirror the true position of his realm perfectly!"  
  
Gildor shuddered again. Lord Galdor raised his brows.   
  
"I don't think that is a good idea, My Lord," he objected politely, "There will be strangers at this council after all – _Edain_ and even _Naugrim 3_. Should we not keep Elven politics discreet among ourselves?"  
  
Gildor sighed. _So much for assembling all free races of Middle Earth to work together and share important news!_ But he had to admit he felt not really comfortable with the thought of spreading the dirty secrets of the fourth Elven Kinslaying and the enslavement of the Elven hostages of the subjected Mirkwood realm out in front of Dwarves and Humans, either.   
  
Elrond shrugged. "Very well. We will not openly discuss Mirkwood's subject state or the position of its representative among the council. If it has to be addressed in any way it shall be done in Elvish. We shall keep that matter private. But Legolas will attend as representative of his father's realm."  
  
He seemed quite satisfied with his decision. Gildor swallowed. Lord Elrond positively scared him.  
  
Erestor offered his Lord an approving bow.  
  
Addressing the still lingering problem of the waiting messengers he asked: "And what of the urgent message the Mirkwood Elves claim to bring, My Lord?"   
  
Elrond shrugged. "Let us hear it at the council!" he decided. "If it contains bad news and Mirkwood has failed our expectations once again they will have to do penance. If so, we may decide what it should be in a more private meeting afterwards." He smiled maliciously. "I rather hope they have failed us. It would not be the first time after all. And I quite look forward to deciding what this penance should be."  
  
Gildor's stomach churned. Obviously the darkness held already a much firmer claim on Imladris than Cirdan and Mithrandir suspected. He took a deep breath to calm himself.   
  
Erestor bowed again. "With your permission, My Lord," he said, "I will tell that Mirkwood spawn of your decision."  
  
Elrond gave him a nod and the advisor left. Elrond sighed and turned back to his guests.  
  
"Now, where did we stop?" he asked.  
  
  
________________ o ________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _ion – Sindarin_ : son; _Thranduilion_ : son (of) Thranduil.  
  
(2) _Ada – Sindarin_ : daddy (dear form of Adar – Father).  
  
(3) _Edain – Sindarin_ : Men, human men (plural). _Naugrim – Sindarin_ : Dwarves (plural).


	7. News From Home

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
____________________________________

  
  
**V. News From Home**  
  
  
Legolas woke in the evening. The sun was already setting and soft twilight and evening birdsong filtered past the closed drapes. He felt refreshed and well rested. The pain that had haunted him for days was gone, and he felt considerably stronger. He was hungry and his stomach growled. The queasy feeling at the mere thought of food that kept him from trying to consume anything during the days before his master returned had finally left him completely. With a contended sigh he turned to his side and buried his nose in the big, soft pillow. It smelled reassuringly of Estel, and himself, and of their last, tender coupling, and carried nothing of the revolting reek of sweat and sickness he remembered from the night before. For a moment, he allowed himself to dream of Estel's tenderness this afternoon. He loved it when his master took him like that, more so because he knew it for the gift it was. He knew it couldn't last; Estel had barely been aroused at first, and he would soon wish to use his slave the way he really desired. Chances were he had already dreamed about it during their tender love play; mere tenderness hardly got Aragorn erect, much less brought him to climax these days. Still, that he had taken the time and showed the concern to give his slave that much – it made Legolas count himself lucky again that he belonged to him. _Dear Estel!_ It was good that he was back at last.  
  
Legolas sighed again and yawned. Then he decided to follow the demands of his growling stomach and get up. He rolled around and sat up on the bed, then set his feet experimentally on the floor and attempted to stand. To his great joy, his legs, even if a bit wobbly at first, decided to carry him. So Estel's thorough treatment last night and this afternoon had the desired effect, his strength had finally returned. Carefully he made his way over to the table where he discovered a fresh plate and pitcher waiting. A look to the washstand at the corner showed him that the bigger pitcher with water had been renewed too, and there were two big, invitingly soft, fresh towels draped on a chair beside it. Legolas smiled. _Dear Estel!_ His master had been concerned and thoughtful enough to make sure that his slave found a meal and an opportunity to wash when he woke up, instead of condemning him to make the long way to the bathing chambers and the kitchens on an empty stomach. It was possible that Estel had asked Lindir to take care of this, but Legolas knew Lindir would not have done so without his prompting. Now that Aragorn was back it was expected that his slave took care of his master's needs and saw to the cleansing of their chambers, not the other way round.  
  
Lifting the cloth he inspected the contents of the plate. He smiled again. A bowl with vegetable soup that would be as tasty if it was consumed cold, and also easy on the stomach; four generous slices of fine, white bread with butter; and a generous amount of cheese and fruits. All kinds of food Estel knew he liked and he would have no problems keeping down after his long, involuntary fast. The pitcher beside the plate was covered with a small, earthen lid and turned out to hold fresh, appetizing apple juice. No wine yet; probably Estel thought it too strong on an empty stomach. Legolas was a bit disappointed that there was no milk to go with the meal, but then maybe he would get some for breakfast, if Estel kept this up. His master seemed determined to put some meat back on his bones.  
  
With that merry thought, Legolas went to wash himself and dress, then returned to the table and settled down to dine.  
  
When he was finished, he took the time to change the sheets and cleanse the chamber as was his duty, then he gathered up the plate and pitcher and went out. On his way to the kitchens to dispose of the used plate, he remembered Estel's concern and tenderness this afternoon again. He could hardly believe his memories of his and Estel's conversation. Estel's stunning confession: _'you know, if there was a way, I would free you!'_  
  
It made him gasp. He did not know if Estel really would do it if they suddenly would truly find a way to break the spell; chances were his master would not really wish to give him up even if he could do so. Estel was used to him and loved to have him close at hand to serve his needs. It probably didn't matter anyway because the only sure way Legolas knew to break the spell that bound him to Aragorn was to kill himself, and he would never do that, since it would have dire consequences for his father and the other hostages. None of them could rebel or flee without endangering the others. This was the way Imladris had ensured its rule over Mirkwood for twenty _yeni_.  
  
But still Aragorn's mere words, his mere thought was an act of rebellion against his foster father. Legolas hoped that nobody outside their rooms had heard this most tender and most foolish promise. And speaking of promises...  
  
His own promise to Estel haunted him. Estel did not really know what he had asked, for Legolas would deliberately and willingly rather choose to die than go to Elrond if there was nobody else at hand to feed the spell. Still he had promised, since his master had demanded it of him.  
  
Legolas shuddered. The very thought of being forced to subject his body to Elrond again, endure his hateful touch, feel the cold, cruel darkness in the very soul of the Lord of Imladris enter him, made him sick and he shoved it away. It was much harder to bear than the thought of the night of cruelty at Estel's hands that awaited him – to his knowledge - very soon.  
  
There was no help for it, as he well knew. Aragorn would torture him one of these coming nights, and would do so thoroughly. He would give him time to recover afterwards and probably he would wait several weeks before he took him again as harshly, but there was no way Aragorn would come back after a prolonged time of separation without dreams full of desire for a long, cruel love game with his slave. Still, if he was lucky Aragorn would give him a few more nights to recover his strength. His master loved to prolong the anticipation of his victim, give his slave time to fear and wonder. And Aragorn knew well how much his slave could take, and normally made sure to keep around these limits. Still he expected Legolas to bear his needs, even if they contained prolonged torture. Such was the price his slave had to pay for belonging to him.  
  
Legolas had had his share of other masters who would not have concerned themselves with so much as a thought of what their slave might wish or be capable of enduring, or prefer. Elrohir and Elladan came to mind, and he refused to remember the first nights in the hands of Elrond. Estel, while he knew that Legolas did not enjoy pain and had a hard time bearing it, at least _tried_ to make his own desires and needs bearable for his slave. No, Legolas counted himself lucky to have Estel as his master!  
  
Sighing, Legolas slipped out of the kitchen, took a detour to the privy, glad he was not forced to use the chamber pot again, and afterwards went to search for his master in earnest.  
  
It was already after the evening meal, and Legolas was glad Aragorn had send a meal for him to their chambers. He looked briefly around for his master in the Hall of Fire and at the place in the library beside the statue that held the shards of Narsil, near the big picture of Isildur fighting Sauron, where his master liked to sit and read, but without success. Aragorn was not there. So he went out and to the gardens, to the spot where Aragorn liked to sit and spend some time with Lady Arwen if she was in Rivendell. On his way through the courtyard he heard the call of a familiar voice and turned. His eyes grew wide.  
  
Bregolas!! His childhood friend and long time comrade through many patrols and campaigns against Orcs and spiders back home in Mirkwood, before Legolas became a slave! And Mitharas, and Belldoron! Three of his father's most trusted warriors here in Imladris! They stood there and waved, and forgetting everything else Legolas sped on to them. They were glad to see him.  
  
" _Ernil Legolas 1!_ Well met! It is good to see you in good health, My Lord! Your father, king Thranduil, was very worried!" Mitharas cried. "So were we! We had no word of you since you and that Ranger brought that creature to us many month ago!"  
  
Legolas smiled. "His name is Aragorn, and he is my master, as you well know," he said. "I'm sorry I did not send word. There was scarce chance to send a letter these last months, and we had no one willing to deliver it close at hand anyway. But I am well as you can see. Aragorn takes good care of me."  
  
Mitharas eyes were dark. "An _Adan!_ " he said. "I can not believe that bastard Elrond gave you to an _Adan!_ "  
  
"It has been sixty years now that I have been bound to him, " Legolas said mildly. "And he is not merely any Adan. He is one of the Dunedain, graced with long life. He might as well live twice as long as he already has. However, I am bound to him and there is no use mourning it. You may tell my father I am well and he is always in my heart, when you go back home."  
  
Then he asked eagerly: "Now tell me how he is! What news from home? How is my sister Silivren2 and her husband? How are my nephews and nieces?" Somewhat belatedly and bit sheepish he added: "And what are you doing here?"  
  
Mitharas sighed and Belldoron smiled, although he looked a bit sheepish, too. "Your father is well, My Lord," Bregolas finally answered, "although he is very concerned for you. There is not one day that you are not foremost in his thoughts. The same is true for princess Silivren. Her children are the joy of their grand sire and a constant source of merriment and mischief to the palace. They ask for you often. Would that that Dunadan master of yours would take you more often to visit your home!"  
  
Legolas sighed. "He probably would if there was any chance," he said, "but things are dire right now, as you have probably already heard. And Aragorn risked much for all of us even these other four times! His... foster-father scolded him for taking me with him to Mirkwood. He did not wish that I should see my home and family again."  
  
Bregolas scowled. Mitharas placed a warning hand on his arm. "We know that things are moving, My Lord," he said, "The _Ulairi_ have harassed us hard, and one of them has even visited Erebor. Word is they are abroad this side of the Misty Mountains. And... there are news we have been sent to tell. I fear you will find them ill indeed."  
  
"What news?" Legolas demanded alarmed. "You said my family was well!"  
  
"It has nothing to do with your family, My Lord," Mitharas said. "The message we carry is about that creature you and that Dunadan brought to us to keep prisoner on Mithrandir's behalf. The creature was allowed out of the dungeons a few times, because Mithrandir asked us to show it mercy and give it some chance to heal. So we used to let it climb a tree every other day where it could feel fresh air. Of course it was heavily guarded. As it turned out, our guard was not enough. There was an Orc raid, and the guards were slain or taken. When we drove back the Orcs, the creature was gone."  
  
Belldoron added grimly: "Those taken we found later on the path, tortured to death. But the creature was gone. We hunted for it several weeks, but we could find no further trace. It may have been taken by the enemy, or maybe it escaped him, too, and found a place to hide. But it is lost to us."  
  
Legolas paled. "These are ill news indeed," he exclaimed. "Does Lord Elrond already knows this?"  
  
Belldoron shook his head. "The Lord of Imladris would not hear us today. His chief advisor told us we had to wait for tomorrow's council to deliver our tidings."  
  
Legolas bit his lip. "It is dire news you bring," he said, "and hard will be the price we all will have to pay for it."  
  
Mitharas shrugged, his face grim. "That cannot be helped now," he said. "Will you take part in this council, My Lord?"  
  
Legolas laughed bitterly. "I am nobodies lord anymore, Mitharas," he said, "I am a slave, bound to Aragorn Dunadan. He will attend the council, though, and probably he will tell me of it later as is his wont, since I have to share his travels anyway. But that is all. You will probably have to represent my father Thranduil there; I will not even be invited."  
  
Bregolas' scowl deepened and Belldoron shook his head sadly. "That does not seem right, My Lord," he said. At Legolas' scolding glare he said: "A hostage you may be, My Lord, and made a slave, but to us you are still our prince. However your station among these Noldor elves may be, nothing can change who you were born and raised to be. You have our love and trust."  
  
Bregolas added: "And the many centuries I and my comrades fought beside you and under your command are not forgotten. We slew many spiders and many an Orc long before those Noldor took you hostage and bound you with that evil curse!"  
  
Legolas face was fierce. " _ **Daro 3!**_" he snarled. "Have you forgotten where we are?! Think you these walls are deaf? Or those who inhabit them?!"  
  
The chided Elf flinched at the command and hung his head. Mitharas and Belldoron looked around alarmed, fearfully, watching for listeners. They saw no one, but of course that did not necessarily mean that nobody was there. Finally Mitharas calmed himself and said: "Forgive us, My Lord. The joy of seeing you alive and well confused our minds. Is there any place here where we could speak undisturbed?"  
  
Legolas shrugged. "There are a few places I know where eavesdroppers may have a hard time listening," he said, "but I have to ask permission of my master first to spend the night with you. It is his right to claim me should he wish it."  
  
Mitharas' face darkened even more and Bregolas' eyes grew wide with sudden realization. To speak of the curse that bound their prince and many other hostages was one thing, to be confronted with its brutal realities was something else. But Legolas merely stared back at them and did not relent.  
  
"It is his right," he repeated, "and I have to obey him. You know that."  
  
Finally, Mitharas bowed. "I am sorry, My Lord prince," he said. "I forgot. If your... _master_.. should permit it, where will we find you again?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I will find you," he said. "Come! Show me the chambers Lord Erestor gave you; then I will seek out my master and if he permits it I will return to you there. Prepare some supplies and some wine to take with you. There are some places in this valley where we may speak without fear of being overheard by unfriendly ears, but they are _**not**_ in this house!"  
  
The three warriors gave their prince a deep, respectful bow and showed him quickly to their room. Then, with a last warm smile, Legolas left them to go and find Aragorn.  
  
  
_________________ o _________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Ernil Legolas_ – Sindarin: Prince Greenleaf. OC Names: _Bregolas_ : Fierce One; _Mitharas_ : Grey Deer; _Belldoron_ : Strong Oak.  
  
(2) _Silivren_ – Sindarin: White Glittering (OC name)  
  
(3) _Daro!_ \- Sindarin: Stop!


	8. Arwen

Author's note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. There are a few sentences directly lifted out of Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship Of The Ring" (Extended Edition) in this chapter. These are credited with footnotes.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
 **VI. Arwen**  
  
  
Legolas found his master in the garden, enjoying the company of Lady Arwen. The Mirkwood Elf offered the daughter of Lord Elrond a respectful greeting, then he bowed his head for his master and knelt down beside him. "My Lady Arwen, Estel," he murmurred politely.  
  
Aragorn smiled at him. Arwen seemed delighted. "Legolas! It is good to see you out and about again! I deem Estel took good care of you?"  
  
The slave gave Lord Elrond's daughter a courteous nod and blushed. "Yes, My Lady. I am well again, now."  
  
"I am glad," she said with a friendly smile.  
  
"So am I," Aragorn said and reached out to give the face of his slave a light caress. "Last night I really feared for you."  
  
Legolas blushed. "I am well again, Estel," he said. "Thank you!"  
  
Aragorn traced his cheeks. "Then I expect you tonight," he said. "I wish to reacquaint myself with you some more."  
  
Legolas paled a bit. _So soon?! He had hoped for more time!!_ Carefully he said: "Actually, My Lord, I had hoped to ask you if you could release me from my duties for the evening. There is a delegation from my father here in Imladris. They were sent to deliver a message to Lord Elrond. I would ask your permission to spend some time with them. It... has been long that I had news from my home."  
  
Aragorn looked at him, slightly dismayed. Then he glanced back at his betrothed. Her expression told him how he had to choose. She would not take it lightly if he spent the first night they could be together in peace in over a month engaged in bed games with his slave instead of enjoying her company some more.  
  
He turned back to Legolas. "Very well," he said, "Then I will have to wait until tomorrow. Of course you may stay with your people for tonight! But be back in the morning. Elrond will hold a council tomorrow shortly after noon, and before it begins I wish to fill you in with the tidings I gathered."  
  
Legolas gave him a grateful nod. He made as if to rise but was stopped by by the gentle pressure of his master's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"But I expect your company tomorrow night," Aragorn added. "I have plans! There are still those toys Lord Elrond gave to me for your last begetting day, some weeks ago, and as far as I recall I never got the chance to properly use them on you. Now I would have that redeemed."  
  
Legolas shuddered. Aragorn squeezed his shoulder lightly and raised his hand again to caress his face once more. "I expect you tomorrow, then."  
  
Legolas bowed. "It will be my pleasure to serve you, master," he said bravely yet untruthfully, and rose. His voice shook a bit, hampering the effect. He gave Aragorn and Arwen a last respectful bow and left.  
  
Arwen looked after him bemused, then she turned back to Aragorn. "That was cruel!" she observed.  
  
Aragorn shrugged. "It is not as if he would not have expected it," he said. "He knows me well, and he knows my needs and preferences. He is used to what I do to him when we have been forced to be apart too long."  
  
Then he shook his head. "But let us speak of other things." He traced her face and lips. "I am glad to be back here with you. These long nights out there in the wilds were very lonely. They caused many dreams."  
  
She smiled. "Did you dream of me," she teased, "or Legolas?"  
  
He looked down a bit embarrassed. "Both," he admitted with a reluctant smile. "But it is you who really owns my heart."  
  
He stood and took her hand, drawing her to her feet. "I fear what tomorrows council may bring. War is near. My destiny is upon us. Yet my path is veiled before me."  
  
"Trust in yourself," she counseled, stepping into his arms. "Your path has long been chosen for you. We will face it together!"  
  
"Arwen..." He caressed her ears, then kissed her tenderly.  
  
The sun was setting, and darkness fell over the garden. Slowly, the stars came out. He took her hand, and they began to walk the paths of the garden. Close by the narrow bridge over the stream he stood and took her face into his hands. "I would rather you took ship and went with the others of your kind to Valinor," he said. "Far away from war, darkness and death."  
  
She stiffened under his hands. "You would send me away? Are you tired of me already?" she teased, a bit more sternly than she wished to show.  
  
He shook his head. "No! I love you more than life. But I would not have you condemn yourself to death because of me! It is bad enough that Legolas is bound to me already. I would not be responsible for your death, too!" He shuddered. "You did not see him last night! I was nearly too late!"  
  
Arwen was a bit disappointed. _Legolas again._ Still, it seemed to haunt her beloved and she could see his point. "I would not be under the spell," she reminded him.  
  
He shook his head. "Yet you would have to share my fate, my mortality. I would not have you do that!"  
  
Angrily she shot: "You accept it from Legolas!"  
  
Aragorn let her go and took a step back.  
  
"Legolas has no choice!" he growled. "I would entrust him to another, preferably an Elf. I do not wish him to die because of me! And I know my needs are hard on him. But I do not want to give him back into the hands of Lord Elrond. Or even my brothers!"  
  
She shook her head, looking earnestly. "You cannot do that. Father hates Legolas with a passion. He looks too much like Thranduil for his taste. He would just let him die, or give him to an Elf who treated him even worse. And my brothers..." she shrugged. "They like him well enough, but they do not really wish him bound to them. And they would not care for him as much. Not like you. They would give him away soon, too." Aragorn looked pained. He only nodded.  
  
Arwen decided to redirect the conversation. She took his hands again and drew him onto the bridge.  
  
"If you asked Legolas, I'm sure he would tell you that he would rather stay with you," she said. She kissed his hands. "As would I." She smiled at him. "It is my choice," she reminded him. "Do you remember when you first met me?"  
  
He nodded. "I thought that I had strayed into a dream," he said1.  
  
She caressed his face. "You were much younger then," she said, "and you did not have the cares you carry now. Do you remember what I said to you?"  
  
Aragorn held her close. "You said you'd bind yourself to me," he said, "forsaking the immortal life of your people."  
  
She nodded. "And to that I hold. I would rather share one lifetime with you," she said, "then face all the ages of the world alone!" She closed her hands on his and when he opened his hand again it held the Evenstar, her necklace, as a token of her love and her promise.  
  
His eyes widened. "You cannot give me this!"  
  
She smiled at him. "It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart!" And with that she stepped close to him and kissed him.  
  
Aragorn held her fast. He loved her, albeit sometimes he nearly despaired at the impossibility of this love. He closed his eyes. Finally he relented.  
  
"Once we marry," he said, "I will have to find another master for Legolas anyway. I would not simply let him die. I need to entrust him to someone to keep him alive."  
  
Arwen gently shook her head. _Could he not for one moment forget this other Elf?!_ "You care deeply for him," she accused jealously.  
  
He did not look up. "I will not let him die!" he repeated.  
  
Arwen almost screamed. But suddenly she had an idea. "Keep him!" she said.  
  
He looked up, startled. "What?!"  
  
"I said, keep him! You know I do not share your ...preferences. Once we are married you will still need someone to satisfy your special needs. He is used to them. And I would rather it be him, than have to share you with somebody else."  
  
He looked still startled and a bit mortified. "You would allow this?" he asked.  
  
She shrugged. "Why not? He is your slave. I had to share you with him for so long that I am used to it. And he would stay alive, and would not need to fear being bestowed to another master. It's perfect!"  
  
Aragorn looked at her sceptically. "I would still condemn him to die," he said, "when it is my time. Like I would you."  
  
She took his face into her hands. "Ask Legolas for his wishes," she said earnestly, "and I am sure he would tell you the same. He would rather stay with you than have another master. Even if it means he has to die with us."  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. "You do not know what I do to him," he said. "It is not pretty. It is hard on him to bear my needs."  
  
She studied him for a moment, puzzled that he was ashamed of what he did to his slave – a slave that had been given to him precisely to bear and satisfy these exact needs. Her father had given Legolas to her betrothed since he did not wish to have his foster son take out his preference for inflicting pain on a free partner. Still Aragorn was ashamed that he used his slave the way the slave was intended for!?  
  
Suddenly she said: "Let me watch!"  
  
He was taken aback. "What?!"  
  
She did not relent. "When you take him next time like you like to do, let me watch!"  
  
He took a step back, startled. "Why?!" he asked puzzled.  
  
"Because once we are married I will have to share you with him anyway. And if I have to share you with him I might as well participate," she explained. "We will practically be married all three together, so you may as well share him with me."  
  
For a moment he only stared at her. On the surface, her proposal sounded fair enough. But sometimes Elrond's whole family really scared him.  
  
Finally Aragorn hesitantly nodded. "Very well," he said slowly. Then he looked down. "Still what I have planned for him tomorrow night is rather... private. Something special, rather thorough. It is not something I would care to share with you for a first occasion."  
  
Arwen nodded. She understood perfectly. Aragorn had always treated her very gently, and had kept his cruel streak strictly away from her and between him and his slave. She knew of it of course, and his special needs were no secret, but he had never confronted her with them directly. He did not wish to do it now completely unprepared. He would probably prefer to invite her first when he planned to go easy on his slave, then slowly let her get accustomed to his practices until she could stomach the harsher occasions, too. That was fine with her.  
  
"Fair enough," she answered, "but do not postpone it for too long. If Legolas is to serve both of us, you better start to accommodate him to his future duties soon."  
  
Aragorn gathered himself together and gave her a sweeping bow. "As you wish, My Lady," he answered ironically. "I will tell him about it as soon as I get the chance!"  
  
_________________ o ________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) This part of the conversation from "I thought that I had strayed into a dream" up to the sentence: "It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart!" is directly lifted of Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship Of The Ring" New Line Cinema, Extended Edition. In the movie, part of the exchange is held in Sindarin, though.


	9. Council Morning

Author's note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
____________________________  
  
  
\-- Part II: The Council of Elrond --  
  
  
 **VII. Council Morning**  
  
  
It was near morning when Legolas silently slipped back into his master's chambers. Aragorn was already sleeping, but he looked as if he had made it back to his rooms only recently, too, and then had just barely managed to disrobe before he dropped into bed. His clothes and boots lay discarded on the floor were he had dropped them and the blanket covered him just halfway. He had not even bothered to close the drapes; for a ranger who was used to sleeping in the wilds it was not necessary to keep the light out to find sleep. Still, Aragorn normally used to be more careful to keep his things in order. He must have been completely exhausted.  
  
Careful not to wake him Legolas picked the clothes off the floor, folded them neatly and laid them on a chair. Then he stored the boots at their customary place beside the bed. Only then did he undress and slip into the bed himself, careful not to wake his sleeping master. In the wilds, this would have been impossible, since Aragorn's honed instincts would have woken him even at the slightest movement or noise. But here in Rivendell the familiar surroundings told him he was safe and he subconsciously recognized his slave's well-known movements and scent, so he did not really wake but just rolled to his side in his sleep to give his bed partner room to snuggle closer. Legolas obeyed, settled comfortably into his master's arms and slipped into Elven dreams.  
  
Aragorn woke to an empty bed. Dismayed, he got up on his elbows and looked around. He saw his slave silently slipping back into the room, carrying a big pitcher with fresh water. Legolas closed the door and placed the pitcher noiselessly beside the wash stand. Only then he turned around. He saw that his master was awake and bowed.  
  
Aragorn groaned and let himself fall back into the pillow. His body was of the opinion that it was far too early to be up. Unfortunately the bright morning light drifting through the open windows said otherwise. The sun had already risen.  
  
Still, he was in the mood to indulge a bit. He patted the empty space beside him and said: "Come to me, Little Leaf."  
  
Legolas raised a brow. He knew well Aragorn had to be tired; after all his master had hardly gotten any sleep the night before, and obviously he did not get the chance to sleep much this past night, either. Even so it was unusual for him to stay in bed well after sunrise. But then, perhaps he had decided to have a bit of fun before he rose.  
  
Hesitantly and full of apprehension, yet obedient, the slave disrobed again and settled back into the bed beside his master. "Good morning, Estel" he greeted. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
Aragorn smiled at him, relishing the contact of the warm body beside him.  
  
"I did. Is there any chance for breakfast yet, or did we oversleep?" he asked.  
  
A wide grin graced the features of his slave. "Why, Estel," Legolas teased, "I am dismayed! I had hoped with your recent habit of having meals waiting for me whenever I woke up you had already arranged for breakfast to be served to us here in your chambers!"  
  
Aragorn gave him a slightly startledlook, but then he settled back into the pillows quite amused. It was good to see his slave recovered enough that he was in the mood to tease for once!  
  
"Hmm, breakfast in bed," he mused, "already waiting. Let's see. This sounds like a splendid idea!"  
  
Legolas saw the mischievous glint in his eyes too late and found himself suddenly on his back, straddled by the man who caught his wrists and gathered them in one hand. He gave a startled yelp.  
  
"Maybe I'll have tied-up Elf," Aragorn said with a grin. Dismayed, he saw the sudden flash of fear in his slave's eyes and decided instantly to keep teasing instead of indulging in bed games. With a devilish grin he added: "Or maybe I would rather have tickled Greenleaf!"  
  
And with that, he began to tickle his slave with his free hand relentlessly, until Legolas gasped for air and begged for mercy. Aragorn grinned down at his laughing, wriggling victim. He was so pleased with himself that he loosened his grip on the Elf's wrists for just a moment.  
  
In the next instant he found himself rolled around and on his back, straddled by his slave, who caught his wrists and smiled down at him. "I'd rather have tickled ranger!" Legolas said with a devilish grin.  
  
For a moment, Aragorn was just too startled to react.  
  
Since Legolas, being his slave, hardly ever fought back no matter what his master did to him, it was easy to forget that the Elf, at least when he was healthy and well rested, actually was as strong as Aragorn himself and much, much faster. Normally, Legolas did not use that strength and quickness against his human master, but now he was obviously in the mood to tease and had judged his master's mood as safe to do so.  
  
Aragorn's second of hesitation cost him dearly because Legolas caught his wrists in one hand so he could retaliate and began to tickle him back until Aragorn tossed and wriggled helplessly under him and gasped for air.  
  
Finally Aragorn could suppress his laughter just long enough and gather enough air to command:  
"Stop! Stop it, Little Leaf!"  
  
Dismayed but obedient, the Elf stopped his tickling attack instantly and let go of his master's wrists. Then he started to rise to get off of Aragorn's stomach, but was stopped by his master's hands settling on his hips and holding him there.  
  
Aragorn looked up at him admiringly. Golden sunlight filtered through the open window and bathed his Elf in a warm glow. Aragorn watched with pleasure how the flush of their little wrestling match enhanced the healthy hue of his slave's skin, admired the shining golden hair, the lithe body, the well defined muscles of the powerful arms and legs and the hairless, flat breast and stomach. Legolas was strong again, his health fully restored. But most of all Aragorn liked the smile on his face and the mischievous expression in his eyes. It had been far too long since he had last seen his slave that way.  
  
He smiled up at him. "You look well!" he said. "Did you have a good night?"  
  
Legolas smiled back at him. "Yes, I did. Thank you, My Lord. It was good to hear news from my home again."  
  
He saw Aragorn's slightly questioning gaze and hesitated a moment, then he added: "Thank you again, My Lord, for your generosity in letting me spend the night in the company of my kinsfolk."  
  
While he spoke he looked quickly around and gave a small, nearly imperceptible shake of his head that signaled a quick, wordless: _"Not here!"_  
  
Aragorn looked at him a bit astonished, then he gave his slave an equally imperceptible nod. He would postpone any questions to later, when they could speak without danger of being overheard, although he wondered what tidings would afford such need for secrecy. Still he trusted Legolas implicitly.  
  
Instead he asked: "How fares your family?"  
  
Legolas smiled joyfully. "They are well! My father is his old, temperamental self and he fares well, although he misses me. In the time when he is not busy ruling his realm he indulges himself in doting on my nieces and nephews, much to the dismay of my sister, who tries to teach her children some restraint. I am told my oldest niece has grown quite a bit since I have last seen her, and my youngest nephew just spoke his first word a few weeks ago."  
  
Aragorn grinned at his eagerness. He remembered the little Elfling well from their last visit in Legolas' home in Mirkwood, when they had delivered the creature Gollum. For Legolas' sake he had agreed to stay a bit, and had watched his Elf play hide and seek and others games with his sister's children. That had been the last time that he had seen Legolas so happy. The little Elven toddler of merely a few months1 had shocked them all by determinedly climbing on the ranger's knee and trying to taste his pipe. Aragorn remembered well the fearful shout of the boy's mother, who did not trust her brother's human master one bit, and Legolas' expression of fear as his little nephew first tried to take the head of the lit pipe into his mouth, then settled on the mouthpiece and wrinkled his nose at the taste. Aragorn had rescued the situation by carefully prying the pipe out of the little hands and setting it away, then sweeping the tiny Elfling up in his arms and high over his head, crying aloud: "Look here! The first and only smoking Elf!"  
  
He had been rewarded with a joyful shriek and had to repeat the sweeping three more times until the terrified mother had rescued her Elfling from the sinister _Adan's_ hands. But Legolas had been delighted and had teased his master later for several days, because Aragorn had to suffer the curiosity of the other Elflings afterwards. After the little toddler had dared to get close to the strange human companion of this new, blond Elf who had been presented to them as their uncle, they did not wish to seem less valiant, and Aragorn had been haunted by a group of Elf children who watched his every step and could not get enough of touching the scruffy human's strange round ears, and even more his beard. He had taken it graciously until he and Legolas had to leave a few days later. Legolas' mood had been bleak when they left, and Aragorn had held him through a night of helpless crying and bad dreams. It had been over a week until he dared to take his slave again, and by then Legolas had been already deep in need and eager for his master's attentions, although they brought him pain. Later he had thanked Aragorn for the chance to see his father and his family again. His gratitude had moved the Ranger deeply, and he had gladly endured Elrond's later reprimand for taking his Elven slave and important Mirkwood hostage with him to Thranduil's realm. _Again._  
  
For the moment Aragorn shoved the memories away. Deciding to indulge his slave some more, he said: "Let me guess. _Ada? Nana? Daerada 2?_"  
  
Legolas shook his head and grinned. "That's what they all wished and competed about. I am told they actually each tried to teach the young one what he should say first. But in the end, it was _'coron' 3._"  
  
Aragorn laughed aloud. "Your father must have been so disappointed!" he said, "I bet he had hoped his grandson's first word would be 'Thranduil'!"  
  
Legolas snorted. "I doubt that," he said, "The outcome when he first tried to teach his name to me while I was still too small to pronounce it should have taught him better." Soundlessly he mouthed _'Tranny'_ , and Aragorn gave another delighted laugh. He caressed the hips of his Elf teasingly. "I'll wager it took him a long time to live that one down," he said.  
  
Legolas smiled. "Only a little more than four hundred years," he said. Then a sudden shadow fell over his features and he sobered.  
  
"I miss him, Estel," he admitted. "I miss them all. Very much."  
  
Aragorn sobered also. Carefully he rose one of his hands and trailed the line of his slave's flat, muscled chest, then followed his breastbone down to the stomach and finally circled around the belly-button.  
  
"I am afraid there will be no chance to visit them again in the near future," he said. "I'm sorry, Little Leaf."  
  
With his other hand and a small rising of his hips he signaled his slave to get off of him, and when Legolas obeyed and settled himself cross legged beside him, he rose himself and sat comfortably in front of his Elf.  
  
Quietly and quickly he explained:  
  
"The One Ring has been found. One of the Hobbits brought it here. Todays council will decide what to do about it." He looked earnestly at his slave. "Whatever the council will decide, I doubt that our travels will take us to your home again very soon."  
  
Legolas' eyes had grown wide.  
  
"The One?" he said, "And it was carried by a Hobbit? That was the reason Mithrandir wished you to wait in Bree for Bilbo's nephew?!"  
  
Aragorn nodded. "And the reason why I had to leave you here. I curse that decision now, but Gandalf's reasoning was sound. An Elf lingering in Bree would have been too suspicious under these circumstances. Our need for secrecy was far too great!"  
  
And with that he quickly filled his Elf in about his journey with the Hobbits including the fight with the Nazgul at Weathertop and Arwen's hard ride to Rivendell to rescue Frodo. Legolas' eyes were dark.  
  
"I should have been there," he said. "I should have fought beside you!"  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, you should have," he said, "if only because then I could have taken care of you. However, Gandalf's counsel that I should leave you here was sound. We found that there were many spies in Bree."  
  
His face was grim.  
  
"Of course I could not know that my brothers would have the splendid idea to talk you into trying to wait for me!"  
  
Legolas looked dismayed and blushed deeply.  
  
"I am sorry, Estel," he repeated. "But it is not the fault of your brothers. It was my fault! I told you that I thought you would return much sooner..."  
  
Aragorn watched him closely.  
  
"Do you deny that it was their idea?"  
  
Legolas blushed. "No," he said. "It was their suggestion at first, but..."  
  
"And do you deny that it was the two of them who convinced Glorfindel to go along with the plan?"  
  
Legolas bit his lip.  
  
"I asked Glorfindel to wait," he said. "'Tis true that they also spoke to him, but he would not have left me without asking me if I was willing to take the risk. I.. I told him I was willing. I... I'd understand if you wish to punish me for that, master."  
  
He swallowed hard. He was not ready to bear Estel hurting him again just yet, not so soon after their carefree tickling match this morning.  
  
To his relief, Aragorn shook his head. "I do not. I know that Glorfindel would not have left you without asking you if you were all right with this," he said, "but Glorfindel also thought if your condition became unbearable for you, you could always turn to Elrond. He would never have believed that my foster-father would deny you. But Elrohir and Elladan should have known better!"  
  
He shook his head again. "Do not try to take the blame for that, Little Leaf. I will not punish you for this; it is over. You have given me your promise and I know nothing like this will ever happen again. Besides, I know a stupid idea of my brothers when I see one. It is noble of you to try to take the blame for this, but you are not the one at fault. They are, and they should have known better!"  
  
Legolas hesitated. "I do not want to be the cause of a rift..." he began carefully.  
  
Aragorn shrugged. "Too late. Besides, we have much greater concerns now. I fear I have to face my destiny quite soon." He saw the pale, fearful face of his slave and placed a hand on the archer's arm.  
  
"Do not fear," he said, "Whatever happens, we will face it together. I need you beside me in this fight, Little Leaf, and I will not give you up nor leave you behind again." He looked at him earnestly. "I cannot help being forced to hurt you to keep you alive, but I will not let you die. Not as long as I am able to prevent it!"  
  
Legolas said nothing. Finally, he hesitantly said:  
  
"If you wed the Lady Arwen..."  
  
Aragorn hesitated. "Actually," he said, "I meant to talk to you about that..."  
  
They were interrupted by a knock.  
  
Aragorn stared a bit irritated at the door, then at his slave, then he took the blanket and wrapped it around both of them before he called: "Enter!"  
  
It was Erestor. He stared with disdain at the two barely covered males, Adan and Elf, sitting within the bed together. Nevertheless he offered Aragorn a courteous greeting.  
  
"My Lord Aragorn, my excuses. I did not know that you still indulged in bed play with your slave at this hour. Actually I meant to speak to your slave."  
  
He turned to Legolas. "You, Mirkwood spawn!" he snarled. "You have no call to stay seated while in the presence of your betters! Rise!"  
  
Legolas blushed furiously and bit his lip. He was completely naked, but taking the blanket with him when he rose would uncover Aragorn. Still, he could not risk to refuse, since Erestor would find pleasure in reporting this to Elrond and make sure that he was punished. And a punishment by Elrond was much worse than the worst and harshest treatment by Estel, even in Estel's worst possible mood.  
  
Reluctantly he started to rise without the blanket, but was prevented by Aragorn's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"As you correctly said, Lord Erestor," Aragorn said icily, "it is _my_ slave that you address. And he will rise and present his body to you only should I wish it. I do not!"  
  
To Legolas he said: "Stay seated! Whatever Lord Erestor wishes to say to you, he can do so in my presence and while you sit with me. This is _my_ chamber after all, and we are in _my_ bed!"  
  
He turned to Erestor again. "If you have objections to that, My Lord Erestor, you are welcome to take them up with me!"  
  
Erestor fumed. Still, he could do nothing, for Aragorn was well within his rights to override any command given to his slave by another person.  
  
Icily he clipped: "Very well. Then keep your slave seated if you wish! Still I have to address him and bring him a message from Lord Elrond!" He turned to Legolas again.  
  
"Mirkwood spawn, it is the decision of our Lord that, since you are a son of Thranduil, you shall represent your father and your people at the council held in two hours. You will have to present your people's news and their case, and you will have to answer for your father's realm. Your station as a slave will not be discussed. If it has to be addressed at all, it shall be done in Elvish, since there will be outsiders present who shall not learn about our internal matters. Do not dare to fail in this, or the punishment will be harsh not only for you, but all of your people. Do you understand?!"  
  
Legolas looked stunned. He opened his mouth to answer, then he remembered that he was not supposed to speak without permission – and Erestor was one who would be delighted of any excuse to punish Legolas or force his master to punish him. He gazed pleadingly at Aragorn and received an approving nod.  
  
"It is well, you can answer him," Aragorn said. "you will need to speak freely and openly at the council if you have to represent your people anyway."  
  
He saw Erestor fume and felt dark satisfaction at the Steward's impotent anger. If Erestor and Elrond had planned this as a farce and a way to humiliate Mirkwood, maybe he could throw it back into their face and use it to get back at them for nearly letting Legolas die.  
  
Legolas gave his master an obedient bow and turned to Erestor again. "I do understand, My Lord Erestor," he said with his melodic voice. "It will be my honor to stand for my father at the council."  
  
Erestor snorted disdainfully. Bitingly he said: "Then I suggest you end your bed play with your slave now, Aragorn, and send him to his people so he can hold counsel with them. And you," he said to Legolas, "I suggest you do so as soon as your master is finished with you here, for the day is waning and the council will start very soon."  
  
"Yes, My Lord. Thank you," Legolas said politely.  
  
Erestor glared at him, then he turned around without so much as an acknowledgment or even a final remark to Aragorn. "Be there! Both of you!" he snapped, before he left and closed the door.  
  
Legolas looked after him, then he whipped around to his master,dismayed. "Aragorn! I cannot do that!" he said. "I have not lived in my father's realm for eighty years! I have hardly a clue to his recent politics. How can I then hope to represent him? I do not even know all the new tidings of his realm, since I spent last night with much talk about private matters!"  
  
Aragorn stopped him by taking his face into his hands.  
  
"You will do well," he said. "I have seen you among your own people. It does not matter how long you have been away, you are still their prince. And if you think you can tell me that you did not use last night to learn all the important news and tidings of your home, then you forget that we have been together and have known each other for over sixty years."  
  
He leaned his forehead against the one of his slave and added a bit teasingly:  
  
"Besides, wasn't it you who told me not too long ago that I should not fear my destiny and trust in my own strength? I think you should take a part of your own advice in this, my prince of Mirkwood!"  
  
"I am no prince anymore, Estel," Legolas said bitterly. "I am a slave. Your slave."  
  
Aragorn kissed him, a chaste kiss for once and only to the lips. "And still you are a prince. Their prince. Go now and take counsel with your people. They will want to discuss with you what should be said."  
  
Legolas shivered. He hung his head.  
  
"Aragorn, there is one more thing that you should know. Ill tidings my people brought, I fear..."  
  
Aragorn shook his head and placed a finger on his slave's lips.  
  
"Shh! I will hear it soon enough, at the council. Trust me, Little Leaf. You will do well. If Erestor and my foster-father did this to humiliate your father, I think they made a grave mistake, for I do not doubt that you will do him honor and he will greatly enjoy hearing such news."  
  
Legolas hesitated. "But..."  
  
Aragorn sighed and gave him a small shove.  
  
"No 'but!' Go! I'll see you at the council. Besides, what better thing could happen? Now I will not even have to fill you in afterwards! You will be there and hear all news yourself."  
  
Sighing, Legolas gave his master an obedient bow and said quietly: "As you wish, My Lord." Then he got up and went to wash and dress himself, and left to see his people.  
  
  
_______________ o ___________________  
  
\--TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) Elven children grow as fast as human ones in their first three years, but they master body control and speech sooner. So, when Legolas and Aragorn had visited Mirkwood to deliver Gollum only a few months before, the child had already been able to toddle, but was not yet speaking; but he had managed, now.  
  
2) _Sindarin: Ada_ – Daddy (dear form of Adar - father); _Nana (of Naneth)_ \- Mommy; _Daerada (of Daer adar)_ \- Granddaddy.  
  
3) _coron – Sindarin_ : Ball.


	10. The Council Of Elrond

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. Some sentences of this chapter are directly liftet of the book  
"Fellowship of The Ring" (1954), Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1991, Book One, Chapter II, PP. 243 and 247ff. Others are lifted from Peter Jacksons movie. Credit will be given in footnotes. However, I have taken some dramatic liberties with the lifted passages, as well as with the whole council events and background, here. Apologies to all Book-Purists!  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
_______________________________  
  
  
**VIII. The Council of Elrond**  
  
  
The council began one hour before noon, and Legolas sat beside his people, clad for once in the raiment of a prince. He was introduced to the other participants as _'Legolas, son of king Thranduil of the woodland realm of Mirkwood'_ , and only the other Elves present – and of course Mithrandir and Aragorn – knew this for the dark joke it was meant to be, albeit none of them showed him derision. Aragorn himself took his place across from him, near Elrond's seat. He was clad in fine garb, but was introduced just as _Strider, a Ranger from the North_ , not as Aragorn, chief of the Dunedain. Obviously, he hesitated to reveal his true identity just yet to the strangers present.  
  
Legolas studied the other participants with interest. He knew most of the Elves; he recognized Gildor Inglorion, since he had seen him a few times when Aragorn was in Eregion guarding the Shire with the other Rangers and Gildor's people crossed their way, and he had once seen Galdor from afar. He was glad to see Glorfindel back in Rivendell, but could not give the other Elf much more than a respectful bow, since the council was just about to start when Glorfindel moved to his seat. He did not know most of the Edain present, though.   
  
Some of the older ones were introduced as Messengers from Dale and Laketown, but he did not recognize them, nor did they seem to remember him; it had been nearly eighty years when he'd last visited Laketown after all, just after it had been burned by the Dragon Smaug, and they had surely not even been born at the time.   
  
He remembered the Dwarves of Erebor, yet recognized them not; one Dwarf was like another to his mind, and although the name of Gloin of Durin's line tickled his memory, it did not tell him much until Gloin glared at him and Mithrandir asked the Dwarf to forget old slights in favor of the present dangers. Only then did it dawn to him that this old Dwarf probably was one of the thirteen his father had imprisoned, just before the Dwarves retook Erebor and Smaug was slain, and Dwarves, Men and Elves fought together against the Orcs in the Battle of the Five Armies.   
  
Legolas shuddered. There were other memories linked to that time he did not really wish to recall. The Battle of the Five Armies had been the last time he had fought as a free Elven warrior of Mirkwood, rather than Estel's slave. And the time between that, before Estel... he did not wish to remember.  
  
To distract himself he contemplated the Hobbits. He knew Bilbo very well, of course, but had never seen his nephew, although Bilbo had told him many stories about him. The old Hobbit had a kind heart and liked Aragorn's Elven shadow well. He knew by now that Legolas was a slave, bound to Aragorn by spell and law, since he could hardly live in Rivendell without finding out at least that much, but he had never let Legolas feel it. Legolas considered him a friend.   
  
The younger Hobbit was harder to discern. He seemed a little startled and much quieter than his uncle. Of course, given his recent brush with the Nazgûl and the One Ring of which Aragorn had told, that was hardly surprising. Legolas wondered where the other Hobbits of Aragorn's account were. He liked the Periannath1 and loved it when Aragorn stayed around the Shire, since they were friendly people and worth fighting for.   
  
Unlike a lot of humans. With interest and trepidation Legolas studied the man who had been introduced as Boromir of Gondor, son of the ruling Steward Denethor. When Aragorn had been in Gondor under the rule of Denethor's father Ecthelion, he had rarely taken Legolas with him to the palace, since he feared to wake the Gondorian noble's desire for his all too beautiful companion and servant. He had also told Legolas to keep his ears hidden at all times, although it was hard to keep his nature a secret, and the soldiers under Aragorn's command used to sharing some gossip or other of 'Thorongil's Elf'.   
  
Therefore Legolas remembered Denethor, and did so with small pleasure, but he had never seen his children. Small wonder; Boromir could have been hardly more than a toddler when they had been there. It was very clear the man did not recognize him, and neither did he recognize Aragorn. Yet he was proud and seemed quite unaware that others beside his own people fought the shadow, too, and Legolas felt bitterness at his arrogance when he thought of his own people's long and desperate and costly fight against the enemy. Yet it was not his place to tell the man that others were suffering too. Let others do that if they had a mind. Or maybe the Gondorian would get a clue with time if he only listened.  
  
So he stopped his secret study and concentrated on the tidings all the assembled messengers told. He listened with interest to the stories of Laketown and Erebor, the vision of Boromir, the Istar2 Mithrandir's tale of Saruman's betrayal, and his narration of the long and convoluted history of the Ring. Yet his heart sank more and more as he slowly began to realize just who this slimy and nasty creature Gollum had really been and of what importance it obviously was. Bitterly he thought: _'Curse you, Mithrandir, could you not have told us of your suspicions before?'_ Obviously, Gandalf had not even told Aragorn the whole truth why he needed to find Gollum.  
  
He dared not to speak when Mithrandir finished his story of Gollum's interrogation. At length, it was Boromir of Gondor who spoke.   
  
"He is a small thing, you say, this Gollum? Small but great in mischief! What became of him? To what doom did you put him? 3"*  
  
"He is in prison, but no worse," said Aragorn. "He had suffered much. There is no doubt that he was tormented, and the fear of Sauron lies black on his heart. Still I for one am glad that he is safely kept by the watchful Elves of Mirkwood. His malice is great and gives him a strength hardly to be believed in one so lean and withered. He could work much mischief still, if he was free. And I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand."*  
  
Legolas bit his lips. _'Oh, Estel!'_ he thought, _'Couldn't you have listened to me this morning?!'_ This was worse than he had feared. Still there was no help for it. Legolas knew he had to speak up now.  
  
"Alas! Alas!" he cried and jumped up. "The tidings that my people were sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."*  
  
Aragorn stared at him, startled and dumbfounded. In his first anger, he could not stop himself. "Escaped?" he cried. "That is ill news indeed! How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?"*  
  
Legolas saw the dark flash of satisfaction on Elrond's face and gave his master a hurt and angry look. _'You ask that of me?!'_ he thought. _'I wasn't even there! And couldn't you have found another way to ask this question?'_  
  
Still, it was too late. He knew his people would have to pay dearly for this. Bitterly and slowly he said: "Not through lack of watchfulness, but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day and night, at Gandalf's bidding. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his black thoughts."*  
  
And he told the council the story of Gollum's treatment and escape, and of the failed attempt to recapture him. He did not spare to tell them the fate of the slain or taken guards, yet he doubted that any of the present members of the council did much care.  
  
When he was finished, he looked at Aragorn. Estel had dropped back into his seat. He looked at him disturbed and apologetically, since he could well imagine what would happen now.  
  
Yet it was too late. Elrond broke the silence.  
  
"That are ill news indeed!" he said, his face dark and stern. "Mirkwood did us all an ill favor to let that prisoner escape. I fear we all shall dearly have to pay for it. Your realm owes penance for such failure of its trust, young Thranduilion."  
  
Aragorn looked up, pale and alarmed. The three warriors of Mirkwood looked startled at their prince. Legolas straightened his back. With great dignity and a short, apologetic look at his master he stood protectively between his father's messengers and the Lord of Imladris.   
  
"If Mirkwood owes penance, _Hir Brannon 4_," he said, "it will be my honor and my duty as the appointed representative of my father's realm to stand for it."  
  
Elrond looked delighted. Aragorn jumped up. "Legolas, no!" he cried in Elvish. "My Lord, he has no authority to offer this!"  
  
Legolas answered quickly and quietly in the same language: "I'm sorry, My Lord. Yet I am the representative of my father's realm in this council. It is my right!"  
  
Aragorn stared at him, pale and angry, hands balled into fists. Elrond's voice cut through their wordless exchange.   
  
_"Havo dad, Estel 5!"_  
  
Defeated, Aragorn sank down on his seat. Still he looked at his slave darkly and with mute pain. Legolas shifted his concentration back at Elrond.   
  
The Lord of Imladris watched him with dark satisfaction and an expression of hunger in his eyes. Legolas realized that he had waited for this opportunity for a long time.   
  
"Young Thranduilion," Elrond said in Common, "Your offer is heard and noted. We will later decide over this matter, since it is not a concern that needs to trouble this council."  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes. _'Legolas! No!'_ he wanted to shout. He cursed himself. Why had he not anticipated this? Obviously Elrond had only waited for something like that. Now he had a reason to have Legolas punished, and not only to have him thoroughly tortured, but to do lasting harm. He might insist upon having him mutilated, or even killed.   
  
Aragorn opened his eyes again and glared at his slave, angry and full of grief. He watched Legolas mutely bow to Elrond and sit down again. Fiercely, he decided that he would **not** give him up. Not without a fight.   
  
Yet for the moment, he could do nothing if he did not wish to make matters worse.  
  
Gandalf decided to intervene.   
  
"Well, well, he's gone,"* he said, consciously downplaying the matter. "That cannot be helped now. What we must decide here is what we shall do with this Ring. We all need to stand together to face this one doom. All free people of Middle Earth need to stand united, or we will all fall. We can not afford to be divided by idle squabbling!"   
  
He gave Elrond a meaningful look, yet the Lord of Imladris held his gaze squarely and unimpressed. Boromir of Gondor interrupted their staring match.  
  
"Well, we have heard a lot of this One Ring, Isildur's Bane," he said, a bit petulantly, "but we have yet to see it. Where is that doom you talked so long about? You said it has been brought to this very place. Show it to us now so we may see of what we speak!"  
  
Elrond nodded, as if he had but waited for that request. He looked directly at the younger Hobbit.  
  
"Frodo, bring forth the Ring!"** he commanded sternly. "It is time!"  
  
Legolas looked at Frodo and saw now he was alone. Bilbo had paled earlier in the proceedings, whispered an excuse to his nephew and sneaked away. Obviously he had decided not to come back then.  
  
Pale and solemn, the little Hobbit stood up and walked to the middle of the council, where he placed a plain, unadorned metal band that looked as if it was made of pure gold. It would have looked unimpressive, had there not been an air of power and pure malice surrounding it that felt as sickening as it was bewitching. Legolas became aware of a soft whisper at the fringes of his mind of a voice he could not truly discern, but could not really banish from his awareness, either. It made him flinch. Beside him he could see that his father's warriors seemed to feel the same, and Glorfindel, Gildor and Galdor too looked all if they felt their stomachs churn. Across him he saw his master draw a grimace and huddle a bit into himself. It was clear that Aragorn also felt the voice of the Ring and did not like it. The reaction of the other Elves and men present, however, was vastly different.   
  
Ah choral of awed "Ah!" and Oh!" surrounded him, and the man of Gondor spoke in awe: "So it is true!"** Even more disturbing was the reaction of Erestor, and of Elrond himself. The Lord of Imladris had undoubtedly seen the band of gold before when he healed Frodo, and had he wished to take it for himself he could have done so then, but now he leaned slightly forward in his seat and seemed to watch the Ring with hunger. Mithrandir watched him with concern. But Erestor... the chief advisor clearly had not seen the golden band before. Raw hunger flashed across his face for just a moment. Only when Glorfindel, who sat beside him, spoke a quiet word and placed his hand shortly on his arm, seemed he to shudder and come back to himself. He paled and looked at the golden band with newfound fear, as if he had been woken from a dream.  
  
Elrond had heard Glorfindel, too. He looked at Erestor, then at Gandalf, and forced himself to lean back in his seat. He seemed to reconsider his actions and gather his strength to resist the whispers. Or maybe he was just biding his time.  
  
Frodo, meanwhile, returned to his seat. He seemed relieved. Obviously he had been loathe to carry the Ring and felt it as a burden.   
  
The man of Gondor seemed to have no such objections. He watched the golden band on the table hungrily, as if he was about to jump out of his seat and grab it.  
  
Yet it was one of the Dwarves who spoke first. Legolas vaguely remembered that he had been introduced as Gimli, son of Gloin.  
  
"So this is the thing we have spoken of all day," he said. "It does not look that much. How do we know that this is truly the One Ring, the weapon of the enemy?"  
  
Legolas looked at him in amazement and irritation. Were Dwarves truly that blind and disconnected from the Great Song? Could they not _**feel**_ the evil that emanated from the thing?  
  
Gandalf stood up and looked at the Dwarf wearily. "Some, Gimli," he said, "would think that the pursuit of Frodo and all the tidings we have heard so far are proof enough that this is indeed the One Ring the enemy longs for. Yet there is one more test that I have taken, the one Isildur spoke of in his recount of the ring. Upon this very ring that you see here round and unadorned, the letters Isildur reported may still be read if one has the strength and will to set the golden thing in the fire a while. That I have done and this I have read*:  


_**'Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk,  
agh burzum-ishi krimpatul'" **_*  
  
Legolas paled and stopped his ears, as did all the Elves around him. Mithrandir's voice had taken a menacing sound and dark clouds seemed to pass over the sky.  
  
Frodo looked as if he was going to be sick, and Legolas felt as if he would join him. Across him he could see that Glorfindel had paled and looked like his stomach was churning, too.  
  
Lord Elrond jumped up. He looked pale and shaken, and completely cured of any desire to take the ring.  
  
"Never before has any voice dared to utter words of that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf the Grey!"* he said as he could breathe again.  
  
Gandalf nodded grimly. "And let us hope that none will ever speak it here again,"* he said meaningfully, and Legolas understood that this had been the whole purpose of Mithrandir's action.  
  
"Nonetheless, I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond. For if that tongue is not soon to be heard in every corner of the West, then let us put all doubt aside that this thing is indeed the treasure of the enemy, fraught with all his malice; and in it lies a great part of his strength of old. Out of the Black Years come the words that the Ring Smiths of Eregion heard and knew they had been betrayed: *  
  
'One Ring to rule the all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to  
bring them all and in the Darkness bind them'*  
  
"This is the One Ring, and we cannot allow the enemy to lay his hands back on it, or we all will fall!"  
  
He sat back down. Lord Elrond seemed shaken. If he had pondered to take the Ring for himself, he had been woken up quite skilfully. The other Elves were also deadly pale. Even the Dwarves seemed convinced. Nobody seemed inclined to touch the Ring.  
  
Except the man of Gondor.  
  
Boromir jumped up.  
  
"Nay, It is a gift!" he exclaimed, eyes glittering. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept save! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!"**  
  
Legolas stared at him, barely able to believe his ears. Had the man of Gondor listened to nothing that had been said at this council? Had he missed the tale of the trials of Mirkwood, Aragorn's tale of Frodo's pursuit by the Nazgûl and of the guardianship of the Shire and Bree by the Rangers of the North? Even the tale of the cursed Dwarves should have told him that Gondor was not the only front line in this war and others had been losing people, too. How could this thick headed son of Denethor stand there and be this arrogant?  
  
Angrily, he felt the urge to give the Gondorian an overdue rebuke. He was saved from any comment by his master. Aragorn made a face at Boromir's passionate exclamation. Now he said intently: "You cannot wield it! None of us can! The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master!"**  
  
Legolas looked gratefully to his master and got a small, wordless acknowledgment in Aragorn's gaze. He had the feeling that Aragorn had meant his words as much for Boromir as they were meant as another reminder for Lord Elrond, whose earlier temptation had not been gone unnoticed by his foster son.  
  
Elrond gave Aragorn a veiled look; he had well understood the rebuke and he seemed a bit rankled by it, yet astonishingly enough he seemed rather accepting of the reminder to be on his guard.  
  
Not so the man of Gondor.  
  
Boromir seized Aragorn with a long look. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" he challenged.**  
  
It was too much. Forgetting his position and all caution in his anger, Legolas jumped up.  
  
"This is no mere ranger!" he exclaimed. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance!"** _'Not to mention the very continued existence of your realm due to his time as Thorongil, when he was routing the threat of Umbar for your grandsire,'_ he did not add. _'You may just have been a toddler then, but I was there!'_  
  
Let's see if that ignorant child of Denethor knew even enough of his own history and that of his realm to recognize the names as belonging to the royal line of the lost northern kingdom of Arnor, Gondor's sister realm, now the only remaining heirs of Isildur and of Gondor's crown.  
  
Across him, he could see that Aragorn briefly closed his eyes again. _'I will be punished for this,'_ Legolas realized. _'Oh, well. I fear it doesn't matter any more.'_ Well, Estel had said this morning that it was time for him to face his destiny. He would have had to reveal his true identity during the course of this council, anyway. Even so, Legolas send him a mute _'I'm sorry, master!'_ with his eyes as Aragorn gaze met his again. Aragorn just raised his brows and looked resigned.  
  
Legolas would have sat down then, but for Boromir's incredulous words.  
  
"Aragorn? Son of Arathorn?" the man of Gondor asked. " _ **This**_ is Isildur's heir?"**  
  
It was the tone. It had Legolas seething. _'And so much more than you will ever know, too!'_ he thought. _'I'm sorry, Estel, but I **have** to do this!' _  
  
In an bout of malicious satisfaction he added: "And heir to the throne of Gondor!"**  
  
Aragorn spoke up. He rose his hand. _"Havo dad, Legolas!"**_ he commanded.  
  
Inwardly, the Ranger pleaded: _'Please, Little Leaf! Do not make this worse! I do not even know if I can yet get you out of this alive already!'_ He was all too aware of the expression of Elrond, who seemed like a cat about to consume the mouse. It was true that Aragorn would have been forced to reveal his identity to the council during the course of their meeting sooner or later anyway, but for Legolas to do it unbidden was a very stupid idea. And to do it like this... _'Please, Little Leaf, **sit down!** '_  
  
To his relief, Legolas obeyed. Boromir looked derisively at him, then back at the man who had been revealed to him as heir of his own realm's vacant throne.  
  
He sneered. "Gondor has no king," he said. "Gondor _**needs**_ no king!"** And with that he resumed his place.  
  
Gandalf got them back on their purpose.  
  
"Aragorn is right," he said, as if it was the most natural thing of the world now to speak the newly revealed true name and identity of the Ranger, "we cannot use it. The Ring is altogether evil."**  
  
Elrond took this as his clue. "You have but one choice," he said. "The Ring must be destroyed."**  
  
Legolas was amazed. He had not really believed the Lord of Imladris capable of fighting the temptation to take the Ring himself for good. Still, he agreed with the Lord of Rivendell for once. It was an enticing thought: the One Ring destroyed, Sauron gone forever, and with him the threat of Dol Guldur. Mirkwood would be free of the Shadow at last, and maybe without the constant fight against the Orcs and Nazgûl, they might even finally find the strength and numbers to throw off the oppression by the other Elven realms, even if it meant the death of all the hostages. Yet even without a rebellion they would at least not be caught between two front lines anymore, and Mirkwood might finally heal.  
  
  
He did not know if he would be allowed to survive long enough to see it happen, now. After all, he just had offered himself, and his life, as payment for his people's safety. But he wished he could see Mirkwood healed, or even be allowed to fight this war at Estel's side. He owed Estel his loyalty, and it pained him to abandon him now.  
  
Legolas was swept out of his contemplation by the reaction of the Dwarf, and it thoroughly startled him.  
  
Gimli jumped up. "Well, what are we waiting for?"** he asked and rose his axe, only to bring it down full force directly on the Ring.  
  
There was a great crash and a cry. The axe broke into little pieces. Legolas could see both Aragorn and Elrond shield their faces with their hands, and Glorfindel flinched away, too. The Dwarf cried and fell to the ground. He looked amazed and seemed too startled to get up for a moment, until two of his people knelt beside him and helped him rise. Over all the commotion and at the fringes of his perception, Legolas could hear a malicious voice speaking syllables that sounded a lot like the hateful words of the Black Speech Gandalf had uttered before. Frodo flinched in his seat. The little Hobbit looked as if he had felt the blow to the Ring physically himself, and now suffered a profound headache.  
  
The One Ring, however, remained completely unharmed, unscathed and unscratched, as before.  
  
Lord Elrond gathered himself together. With dignity, he said:  
  
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there it can be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."**  
  
Legolas eyes were wide. _So this was what they were planning?_ Who would Elrond appoint to carry this out? Surely Estel would have to go. Aragorn had been in Mordor before. But with the Ring of Power? Would he have to face this suicide mission alone? And what if the One Ring tempted him? Would he manage to withstand? Surely he would need some companions!  
  
Even so it was a mission bordering on madness. Carrying _that thing_ through the wilds when every single servant of the enemy was out looking for it?! On the other hand it sounded mad enough that it could just have the chance of success, and it was ingenuous in its simpleness. It sounded very much like an idea Mithrandir would have, and Legolas suspected the Istar had been the one who convinced Elrond to go through with it. Suicide mission or not, it sounded like it was their one possible chance. Maybe, just maybe, there was real hope!  
  
Yet not everyone shared his opinion.  
  
Boromir spoke up again. "One does not simply walk into Mordor," the man of Gondor said. "It's black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The great eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled by fire, dust, and ash. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men you could do this!"**  
  
Legolas had enough. Didn't that ignorant Adan realize that he sat here in the company of some who had been already there? Legolas himself had never been to Mordor, since Estel left him behind the one time he had to travel there, but his own grandfather Oropher had perished before the very gates Boromir just described, together with two thirds of his warriors. Only to have their sacrifice, and the hard-won victory of the Last Alliance, later betrayed by Isildur's greed, and to be accused posthumously to have caused Gil-Galad's death with their early demise and failure to submit their warriors to the command of the Noldor king. Legolas' own father Thranduil had fought there. Even Elrond and Erestor, as little as Legolas loved them, had fought in that war, as had Glorfindel. More so, Legolas thought with pain of Mirkwood's south, corrupted by the long presence of Sauron, and since then his servants, in Dol Guldur. And that man talked as if nobody of them knew what Sauron's touch on a land would mean?  
  
And besides, didn't that son of Denethor realize that only the destruction of the Ring could bring an end to Sauron and final relief from the war against the Shadow? Relief for Gondor; relief for Mirkwood, too, at least from the threat of Dol Guldur! He was beyond caring now. Whatever his own fate, he had to make sure that his home got this one chance at least!  
  
He jumped up.  
  
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" he fiercely exclaimed. "The Ring must be destroyed!"**  
  
Yet not Boromir answered him, but the Dwarf who had attempted to do just that without success. Challengingly, Gimli said: "And I suppose you think _you're_ the one to do it?!"** He jumped up in his anger, ready to face the hated Elf.  
  
Legolas was startled. He had not realized he would provoke such a reaction from the Stunted One. Yet now it was too late. The man of Gondor jumped up.  
  
"And if we fail, what then?" he asked. "What happens if Sauron takes back what is his?"**  
  
But it was the Dwarf again who finally tipped the balance. Clearly and pointedly, he cried:  
  
 _ **"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"**_ **  
  
Aragorn rolled his eyes and closed them briefly. He looked pained and resigned. _'Confound it, Legolas,'_ he thought, _'I did not think that you would take the task of representing your father quite that literally! Did you **need** to display his hot temper and his habits toward Dwarves, too?'_ Yet he could do nothing to stop what was happening now, so he remained in his seat, weathering the yelling and the angry arguments.  
  
The Elves among the council jumped up as one. They advanced on the Dwarves who stood to face them and readied themselves to fight. Even the Elves of Elrond's household followed through. Only Elrond himself remained slumped in his seat, all too aware that he had completely lost any control of the situation.  
  
They all heard Gimli's angry shout: _**"Never trust an Elf!"**_ **  
  
That did it. Legolas felt old, long honed instincts of royalty and well-trained royal command taking over and completely forgot his position as a slave. He advanced threateningly two or three steps on the insolent Dwarf, who squared himself to meet him. Behind himself, he could feel his warriors advance, ready to fight, and his arm sneaked out, preventing them in a silent command. However that obstinate Stunted One made his blood boil, they were on Elrond's territory here and the Dwarf was Elrond's guest and under the protection of Imladris' hospitality. Even if Mirkwood, and themselves, had all been free, they would not have been within their rights to attack here. Even so, his mind was in a haze, hot anger boiling within him he didn't fully understand. Yet he was too upset to care much about it.  
  
He was not the only one. All the other Elves beside Elrond himself were on their feet, too. So were all the men except Aragorn. The Dwarves were standing too. All were shouting in anger at each other. Finally the wizard entered the fray.  
  
 _ **"Do you not understand? While you bicker among yourselves, Saurons power grows! None can escape it! You'll all be destroyed!"**_ **  
  
Most of the assembly ignored him. They simply continued to argue and yell at each other. The only one remaining seated now besides Elrond and Aragorn was the Hobbit. Frodo looked at the Ring as if it held some odd fascination for him. Over the whole bickering, the angry arguments, he could hear the voice of the One Ring in his head, repeating the verse Gandalf had quoted earlier over and over. It was as if the golden band was riddled in flame, poisoning all around it with its malice. Frodo could clearly hear its voice:  
  
 _ **'Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul.....'**_  
  
Sick to his stomach, he cried: "I will take it!"**  
  
They did not hear. He jumped up and cried again. "I will take it!" he repeated. "I will take the ring to Mordor!" **  
  
Finally, Gandalf heard him and turned around to him. They all looked at him. The arguing died down.  
  
In the sudden silence, Frodo repeated: "I will take the Ring to Mordor." More quietly, he added: "Though I do not know the way."**  
  
Gandalf seemed to recover. He gave the Hobbit a solemn bow.  
  
"I will help you to bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," he promised, "As long as it is yours to bear."** Solemnly and with great dignity, he made his way over to the Hobbit and placed himself beside him.  
  
They all looked at them in wonder. It was as if they had awoken from a trance. Then, Aragorn stood. Determinedly he made his way over to the Hobbit.  
  
"If by my life, or death, I can protect you," he said intently, "I will."** he went down to one knee in front of him. "You have my sword." He stood up and placed himself behind Frodo. He looked at Legolas.  
  
Legolas looked back at him. There was no question. Where Estel went, he would go, too. If he was still alive to do it.  
  
"And you have my bow,"** he added without further hesitation. He went over to stand beside Aragorn. He caught the expression of his master's gaze, and it was one of renewed hope and veiled triumph. Aragorn turned his head to look at Elrond.  
  
Elrond seemed angry and about to intervene, although Gandalf shot him a hopeful look. They were distracted by the Dwarf.  
  
"And my axe!"** Gimli said and went to place himself besides the Elf. Legolas rolled his eyes. Valar protect them! This was all they had needed! Yet he did not dare to speak. Before anyone could say anything else, Boromir intervened.  
  
Proudly he stated: "You carry the fate of us all, Little One! If this is indeed the will of the council, Gondor will see it done!"** He stood beside the dwarf.  
  
Gandalf still looked at Elrond, who stood up now himself and watched them with wrinkled brows. Still, before Elrond could say anything, he was interrupted by a shout.  
  
"Mister Frodo doesn't go anywhere without me!"** A strange Hobbit sprinted forward out of the bushes, placing himself besides Frodo. Gandalf smiled at Elrond. Elrond relented. He sighed.  
  
"No, indeed, Samwise Gamgee. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is invited to a secret council, and you are not!"** He turned back to the others, but was interrupted by two more shouts.  
  
"Oy! We're coming too!" shouted another Hobbit Legolas had never seen before. He realized that this had to be another one of the three who had accompanied Frodo to Rivendell. The Perian was accompanied by the forth of the gang, who looked a bit older. "You have to send us back tied up in sacks to stop it!"** this other one said. They stood beside Frodo and the one called Samwise.  
  
Elrond straightened up. He seemed taken by some kind of vision.  
  
"Nine companion," he said. "So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"**  
  
Legolas caught his master's eyes, who was looking at him with relief and hidden triumph. So Aragorn thought the matter of Mirkwood's penance closed. Legolas bowed his head. He doubted that it would be that easy.  
  
He was proven correct with the next words of Lord Elrond.  
  
"The council is adjourned," the Lord of Rivendell announced. "The midday meal will be served soon. I invite you all to meet us there again."  
  
The Hobbits seemed all eager. Frodo went over to the little stone table in the middle of the council place to take back his Ring. The assembly slowly dissolved, when Elrond raised his voice again. "I ask my fellow Elves, however, to stay awhile. We have still to discuss the matter of Mirkwood." He shook his head at Mithrandir. "No, Gandalf, this is a private matter of the Elves. I suggest you go and talk the coming journey through with Frodo and the others."  
  
Some of the Dwarves and the man of Gondor looked up at that with sudden distrust, but since the One Ring was safely back with the Hobbit and the Elves obviously did not intent to invite the Ring Bearer to their meeting, they let it go and left.  
  
Aragorn stayed. He looked at his slave in alarm. His face fell. Legolas squared his shoulders. It was time for him to pay up, then.  
  
__________________ 0 _____________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) _Periannath_ – Sindarin: Halflings (plural form of perian – Halfling.)  
  
2) _Istar_ – Sindarin: Knowledgeable One, one of the Wise; a wizard. The latter translation, though incorrect, is the usual meaning of the word in Common Speech. The Elves knew the Istari for a special order; most humans didn't.  
  
3) This and some of the following dialog is lifted from the book: J.R.R. Tolkien: The Lord Of The Rings (1954), Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1991, Book One: The Fellowship Of The Ring, Chapter II: The Council Of Elrond, 243 and PP 247ff. Lifted sentences and dialog is marked with an asterisk*; but I adapted some sentences to fit my purpose. However, while I quote parts of the chapter, I have taken the liberty to mix Bookverse and Movieverse here, and taken some other dramatic liberties to fit the events into my AU; for example, in the book Gandalf had told Aragorn that they searched for the former bearer of the One Ring, of course. Here, that and a few other things are changed. Later I also use some dialogue of Peter Jacksons FOTR movie, which will be marked with two asterisks**.  
  
4) _Hir Brannon_ – Sindarin: Lord Master. Here used in the meaning of 'high overlord'.  
  
5) _Havo dad_ – Sindarin: sit down.


	11. Standing Trial

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
___________________________________  
  


**IX. Standing Trial**  
  
  
The meeting was held in one of the upper rooms of the house, one of the rare ones that had windows of glass and therefore was safe from eavesdroppers. When the attending Elves, including Elrond's quickly summoned guards, filed up to climb the stairs. Elrond turned to Aragorn to stop him from following.  
  
"Not you, son of Arathorn," he said sternly, "this is a matter of the Elves only. Go to Gandalf and the Ring Bearer and stay out of this!"  
  
Aragorn looked squarely back at him and stood his ground. Rarely Legolas had seen him this determined and this fell and fierce. He looked positively kingly.  
  
"Not so," Aragorn said. "Legolas is mine. He is my slave, and everything that concerns him concerns me, too! You will hold this meeting in my presence or you will not hold it at all. I will not let anyone decide over the fate of my very own property without me!"  
  
Elrond started to object, but Glorfindel intervened. "He is right, My Lord," he said with his clear voice. "Since Legolas is his slave, Aragorn is well in his rights to participate in this."  
  
Fiercely, Elrond turned on him, but was stopped by one of his sons. "Let Aragorn participate, Ada," Elladan said. "After all he is still our foster brother and it _is_ his concern as well."  
  
Aragorn did not even spare a moment to shoot him a grateful look. He still faced Elrond fiercely and unrelenting. Finally, Elrond gave in. "Very well," he said, "but remember that this is mainly about Mirkwood, not about your claims!"  
  
Aragorn stared right back at him. "As long as it is about my slave," he said stonily, "it is my concern and is about my claims to him, too." And without another word, he started up the stairs right beside his slave. Elrond scowled at him but followed him without a further word.  
  
______________ o ________________  
  
  
In the meeting chamber, Elrond took his place in a comfortable seat that was a little higher and more richly adorned with fine carvings than the others, and motioned his fellow Elves to take their seats in the other chairs placed in a half circle around the room. Legolas remained in the middle of the room, shoulders squared. His father's warriors had not been allowed to join them, and he knew he would only see them again after facing his judgment.  
  
Elrond's two guards had left him when he stepped into the room and took their place at the door, as if Legolas could try to escape. Aragorn, however, refused to follow Elrond's gesture to sit down, and remained standing two steps beside his slave, fierce and grim, a silent sentinel to the proceedings.  
  
Elrond motioned the guards to close the doors and turned to Legolas.  
  
"Legolas Thranduilion," he began, "do you recall your recent offer to stand in penance for your father and your people?"  
  
Legolas gave him a respectful bow. "I do, My Lord."  
  
Elrond looked satisfied. "And do you keep to it?"  
  
Again, Legolas bowed. "I do, My Lord," he said.  
  
Now, Elrond's face showed a dark, delighted smile. "Very well, _slave_. Kneel!" he commanded.  
  
Legolas obeyed. He knelt, head bowed, in the middle of the assembled Elves. Aragorn remained standing.  
  
"My friends and allies," Elrond began, "we are here to decide over the punishment for the repeated failure of Mirkwood. This realm has failed its duty in its fight against the Shadow that threatens all our realms again and again. This last failure was of greatest importance, and it may yet bring great harm to all of us. We cannot allow this to go unpunished. And since the deed discussed here was grave, it calls for a punishment that will be harsh, thorough and memorable, and will be direly felt by Mirkwood's king and by its people."  
  
Legolas did not dare to look up, and he suppressed a tremble. He had known that it would come to this. All he could see from his position was Elrond's face and his delighted, predatory smile. And Erestor's face and expression of triumph beside him.  
  
Elrond continued: "This slave here, who is the youngest son of Thranduil, has offered and was allowed to stand in representation for his father's realm and face trial for them. However, to make this penance worth its name, we cannot allow this punishment to be anything else than lasting, since the outcome of Mirkwood's failure this time may well prove a lasting one, as well."  
  
In this moment Aragorn's voice cut through the silence that followed his words.  
  
"I have to take objection to that,"he said. "My Lord Elrond, this slave is mine. And he made his offer without my authorization."  
  
Elrond said fiercely and icily: "Estel, sit down and keep your mouth shut. If you interrupt again, I will have you removed from this chamber."  
  
Aragorn squared his shoulders and stood straight. He broadened his stance and looked ready to fight.  
  
"No, I will _not_ ," he said. "My Lord Elrond, I say again, this slave belongs to _me_. By law of Rivendell, I am well in my rights to be consulted if there is a decision to be made about his fate, and I will _not_ suffer to be bereft of this right by you or anybody else assembled here."  
  
Legolas swallowed. So this was what Estel planned. He merely feared that Elrond would not stand for it.  
  
Elrond said: "Aragorn, son of Arathorn, this slave is a Mirkwood hostage. And he has offered to stand in penance in his function as representative of his father and of his people at the council. In that function, it was his right to do so, and he has to stand for it."  
  
Aragorn did not relent. He stared squarely back at him. "This slave may be a Mirkwood hostage, My Lord Elrond," he said, "but he was given to me as a gift for my majority by you, yourself. By any law of Rivendell, he is now my property and therefore he belongs to me. You would dishonor yourself were you to claim him back."  
  
Elrond scowled. Legolas carefully raised his head to cast a look at his master beside him. Aragorn looked fierce and grim, every ounce a chieftain and possible king.  
  
" _However_ ," Aragorn continued, "while Legolas made his offer without my authorization, he may still stand for it. Yet there are some conditions on which I insist."  
  
His gaze sharpened. "If Legolas is to be punished, it will be my honor and my duty as his master to carry out he punishment myself."  
  
Legolas stared at him in amazement, then bowed his head again. He supposed it was all right. Since he belonged to Estel, it was only right that it would be Estel who would be the one to kill him. He did not doubt that dying at his master's hands would be more merciful as if he was killed by an appointed executioner of Elrond's choosing. He saw Elrond perk up with dark satisfaction. So did Erestor; the chief advisor knew that killing or mutilating his slave would cause Aragorn pain, and saw the chance to finally get back at him.  
  
Their hopes were stopped by Aragorn next words.  
  
"But," he fiercely said, "I will accept _no_ punishment that will do lasting harm. None that will kill, nor mutilate, nor disfigure him for good. This slave belongs to _**me**_ , and I will not suffer myself to be deprived of him. I will _**not**_ accept any sentence to him that renders him worthless for my uses." After a moment, he added coldly: "And it will be _me_ who will be the judge of that."  
  
Legolas looked at him in awe. He had not expected Estel to fight for him like that. He bowed his head again and kept his face carefully blank. He did not dare to intervene or draw any undue attention. Pale and trembling he waited for the outcome.  
  
Elrond scowled. " _My Lord Aragorn_ ," he said, "while you are in your rights to demand your property remaining useful to you, the fact remains that this slave is a Mirkwood hostage, a son of Thranduil, and he is to be punished as stand-in for his father and for his realm. We can't accept such limits. If you wish for another slave in compensation, we can arrange for that."  
  
Aragorn held his gaze. "I do not wish another slave," he said. "I want _this_ one. I repeat to you, Legolas was given to me by you, and he was given not as hostage of Mirkwood to take care of, but as a _gift_. He belongs to me in every way possible. I will _not_ give him up. If he is to stand in penance, then the penance has to be one that, while harsh, will not do lasting harm. Nor shall it include any mutilation or disfigurement."  
  
Elrond glared at him. He was about to object when Glorfindel spoke up.  
  
"Besides," Glorfindel said, "Legolas is part of the Fellowship of the Ring, now. He offered his bow to protect the Ring Bearer on his quest, and he is bound to this. Surely the mission to destroy the One Ring and save Middle Earth from the threat of Sauron is more important than any punishment to the Mirkwood realm for the escape of a single prisoner."  
  
Elrond turned and glared at his vassal and chief warrior. Then he shrugged.  
  
"Legolas made that second offer without authorization of his master, too," he said. "And it could be argued that he was not free to make it in the first place since it contradicts his first offer."  
  
Aragorn said: "He may have made this second offer without my explicit authorization, but this is one I condone and completely approve of. There has to be an Elf within the fellowship, and there is none that I would rather have beside me than this one." After a short pause he added: "Therefore I will not accept that anything be done to him that would render his participation impossible."  
  
Legolas ducked his head. Elrond scowled. Testily he said:  
  
"I can easily appoint another Elf to participate in the fellowship. In fact I should. This mission is too important to be left to a Mirkwood slave. Glorfindel could go with you, or my sons."  
  
Elrohir and Elladan perked up. Glorfindel shook his head.  
  
"With all due respect, my liege-lord," he said, "I am not a good choice to go on this mission. I am too well known to the enemy, and my power is too great. I would be like a beacon to any spies or servants of the enemy who might watch. So would your sons be. The main point of this mission is secrecy. Legolas is the natural choice, since he travels with Aragorn regularly anyway. The spies of the enemy will think nothing of it if he accompanies the Ranger now."  
  
Aragorn gave him a short, grateful look. Quickly he said:  
  
"Besides, I do not wish another Elf for this mission, nor will I accept another one. Legolas has stood beside me in countless fights. I can discern what he will do without so much as but a glance, as he can do with me. We can act as one, without so much as a word needed between us. I can do that with no other Elf, My Lord Elrond, not even with your sons. And Legolas is well used to travel and interaction with folk other than Elves. He has accompanied me on my travels for sixty years. I do not doubt that he is the ideal choice to travel with four Hobbits, one wizard, another Adan and a Dwarf."  
  
He bowed his head respectfully to the assembled Elves. "Therefore, my Lords, I do not wish to have another Elf beside me and I won't accept being accompanied by any but by him."  
  
There was some disquiet running through the other Elves and Legolas ducked his head a bit more. This last one had been a daring move, since it had to rankle the assembled Lords, albeit the argument was true enough.  
  
Elrond bristled. "That is not your choice alone, son of Arathorn," he said, glaring coldly at the Ranger.  
  
Aragorn glared coldly back at him. " _Yes it is_ ," he said, "for I am Isildur's heir and the fate of the One Ring is mainly my concern, since it was the fault of _my_ ancestor that we need to correct now. All of my bloodline are bound to its fate, and so it is my responsibility to see the Ring destroyed. It is me who has to carry out this mission beside the Ring Bearer. That is my duty and my right. And I wish for no other Elf to accompany me on it but my slave."  
  
Glorfindel spoke again. "Besides, My Lord, if Mirkwood has to redeem its former failures in the fight against the Shadow, Legolas' participation on this quest will be a part of that. There is no greater service after all that one of Mirkwood's Elves could do to Middle Earth than helping to destroy this weapon of the enemy for good."  
  
Aragorn gave him a grateful look. Legolas said nothing. He was still kneeling on the floor and dared not to move or to look up, so he would not draw undue attention to himself, and he kept his face carefully blank. Yet he was grateful, too.  
  
Not so Lord Elrond, who glared at his chief warrior and old, trusted friend fiercely. He opened his mouth to contradict him, yet was forestalled by Lord Gildor.  
  
Gildor looked sceptically at the kneeling slave. As much sympathy as he felt for the young Mirkwood Elf, there was an objection he had to make.  
  
"Forgive me, My Lord Glorfindel," he said, "but is it not a risk to give such an important mission to one who is a slave? What if the slave should decide to betray us?"  
  
Legolas' head came fiercely up at that, and dared to look at the Elf-lord indignantly. Gildor met his gaze somewhat apologetically. He did not doubt the Young One's loyalty to his master Aragorn – obviously in this case the commitment went both ways - but this whole Quest was too dangerous and too important to leave anything to chance.  
  
"I do not say that he would do so," he hastened to add, "but surely a slave such as he has no great love for his masters or their allies, all those who keep him enslaved, nor would he have great reason for it."  
  
Elrond looked delighted. Yet Aragorn straightened up again and gave Gildor a cold look.  
  
"I take objection at your words, Lord Gildor," he said coolly, "Legolas has fought at my side for sixty years. Never once he has betrayed me, or Rivendell, or the free people, in any way. He has proven himself a trusted and loyal companion, willing to lay down his life for me if needed, and for any of my Rangers or my other companions who fought beside him as well. Besides, he is bound to me quite tightly by the spell, and neither he nor his people would have anything to gain by selling us out. Quite the contrary. Mirkwood has suffered greatly by the Shadow and has a lot to gain should the One Ring finally be destroyed. I have no doubt of Legolas' loyalty, nor need you have any."  
  
Glorfindel spoke. Gently he stood up from his seat and knelt before the slave. He tipped his chin up so Legolas looked into his eyes. "Legolas Thranduilion," he said intently, "meet my gaze. Do you swear that you will give your blood and life, if necessary, to protect the Ring Bearer and to help this mission to succeed, if you are allowed to join it?"  
  
Legolas held his gaze and nodded. Clearly and solemnly he said: "I swear, My Lord Glorfindel. I will never betray My Lord Aragorn, or Middle Earth and its people."  
  
"Nor the Ring Bearer?" Glorfindel asked.  
  
"Nor the Ring Bearer," Legolas said. "I offered the Hobbit Frodo my bow, and to this I hold. I swear to protect him with my life if I am allowed to accompany my master on this mission."  
  
Glorfindel nodded, satisfied. "I believe you, Greenleaf," he said. "There is no falsehood in your eyes. I know you will stay true to your oath."  
  
Elrond scowled again. Glorfindel ignored it. He stood up and said simply to the assembly: "We can trust him." Then he gave a small bow to Aragorn and sat down again.  
  
Aragorn glanced shortly down at his slave and nodded. "I had never any doubt of it," he merely said.  
  
Elrond looked furious. He scowled. Finally he turned directly to the kneeling slave.  
  
"Legolas of Mirkwood, look at me!" he commanded. Hesitantly and fearfully, the slave looked up and met his gaze.  
  
Elrond glared at him. "Your offer to stand in penance for your father's failure and for your people is denied," he said. "You may join the Quest to destroy the Ring, since this is the wish of your master. We leave it open to him to punish you for the unauthorized offer you made to take penance for Mirkwood's failures."  
  
He raised his voice, still staring maliciously at the kneeling slave. "Instead, as punishment for this new failure Mirkwood will have to give not only twelve, but fourteen hostages henceforth, beginning at the next yen. And even sooner, Thranduil in addition will have to give his last free child, Legolas' sister Silivren, to us as hostage and slave. She shall be put under the spell and given to an Elf of my choosing to serve him faithfully in payment of her father's failure in his trust. This is my judgment."  
  
The other assembled Elves, save Erestor, looked dismayed. Aragorn visibly paled. Legolas looked horrified. He was desperate. He knew he should keep his mouth shut not to make matters worse, but he could not help himself.  
  
"But Silivren is bonded!" he cried in alarm. "She has children! That is the very reason you spared her so far! Please, My Lord, you cannot do that to her!"  
  
He saw Aragorn flinch at his new unbidden intervention and display of disrespect, but at this moment, he was beyond caring.  
  
Elrond weighted the full force of his freezing gaze back on the slave. "Aragorn," he said icily, "I suggest you teach your slave not to speak unbidded, and not to contradict the rulings of his betters."  
  
Legolas trembled. He opened his mouth to protest again, to insist, but Aragorn turned around to him in one fast move and slapped him full in the face, hard. "Be silent," Aragorn hissed. "You had no leave to speak! And you have no call to criticize Lord Elrond! I will have to punish you for this!"  
  
Legolas looked up at him, hurt and betrayed. He saw the renewed fear in his master's eyes and subsided.  
  
Aragorn turned back to Elrond again. "I am sorry, My Lord," he said coldly. "I will teach him better. Starting tonight."  
  
Elrond's gaze sharpened and became predatory again. "Maybe," he mused, "your confidence in your slave's trustworthiness is too great. I suggest you have him punished thoroughly. Maybe I should assist you. Obviously you are far too gentle with him. I would rather you had this slave learn some respect."  
  
Aragorn looked straight and unrelentingly back at him.  
  
"With all due respect, Lord Elrond," he said coldly, "Legolas is mine, and I alone will decide how I treat him. And my trust in him both with my life and with this Quest is implicit, notwithstanding the fact that now and then I need to remind him of his place. Yet it is my duty and my right alone to do so."  
  
He gave his slave a short, cold glance, and shifted his attention back at Lord Elrond. "But be assured that he will be punished thoroughly. _By me_. And I alone will decide what I see fit to do to him."  
  
Elrond looked at him angrily, but Aragorn did not relent. Finally Elrond gave in. Disgusted, he said: "Very well. I will leave him to you. But you better make sure that it is a thorough punishment. I will not have your slave insult me without due reproach, and I demand you have him pay for this!"  
  
Aragorn merely bowed, refusing another answer. Elrond stared at him for another moment, then he rose.  
  
"Good. I will hold you to it," he just growled, then he turned around to the other Elves. "This council is closed. My Lords Gildor, Galdor and Glorfindel, you are excused. I will see you at the meal. Yet I ask you, My Lord Erestor, to join me in my study. We have preparations to make."  
  
With a last grim nod to Aragorn, he signaled his guards to open the doors again and left the room. Erestor followed him in a huff. The assembled Elven Lords followed him more hesitantly and with some regretful looks at the still kneeling slave. Elladan hesitated shortly but was caught at the arm and guided outside by his twin, whose eyes were communicating a silent 'Not now!' at him. Glorfindel hesitated briefly, too. He gave Legolas a concerned look, then he straightened and left the room purposefully and with a determined expression. He was the last of the Elves except the slave to leave the room, and he closed the door from the outside.  
  
Aragorn looked around to make sure they were truly alone, then he turned back to Legolas. He looked relieved, yet angry. Legolas looked back at him, wide eyed, hurt and hopeless, and felt bleak despair closing around him.  
  
__________________ 0 _____________  
  
  
\-- TBC --


	12. Defiance

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.  
All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkiens. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
 **X. Defiance**  
  
  
Aragorn gave the room another look-over, then he dropped to his knees before his trembling slave and took him by his shoulders. With a quick shake of his head he said quietly:  
  
"That was very brave, but very, very stupid!"  
  
Legolas looked back at him, puzzled. Aragorn was not angry? But the expression of his masters eyes told him differently. Aragorn was upset, very much so, and his eyes showed an odd mixture of concern, anger and fear.  
  
"What did you think you were doing?!" he hissed at his Elf, quietly and angrily. "You scared me badly today! I thought I'd lost you! I thought I would be forced to watch you die, or worse! Do you think I wish to watch you being killed or mutilated?"  
  
Legolas looked back at him with eyes burning with unshed tears. "I do not care!" he said desperately. "Aragorn, they will enslave my sister!! They will take her away from her Elflings and put her under the spell! Father will die of grief!" A few of the tears escaped and ran down his cheeks, but he refused yet to let them flow unchecked.  
  
Aragorn shook him angrily. "No, he will not," he said, "He can't under the spell. Yet I admit that it would pain him greatly. _As will losing you!_ " He relented a bit and stared angrily at his desolate companion.  
  
"Maybe they will enslave her, too," he said finally, still fierce. "But at least she will _live!_ Your nieces and nephews will _live!_ Thranduil will care for them, as will her husband. They all will _survive. Think_ , Legolas! Do you think your father would rather hear that you were killed, or cruelly mutilated and left to die miserably of the spell that binds you? Because I very much doubt he would prefer that option!"  
  
Legolas stared back at him. Defiantly he said: "He has already lost me, Aragorn. He shouldn't have to lose her, too!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Nor would he wish to lose _you!_ " he snapped back. "He hasn't yet, you know, since he knows you are still alive and he did have the chance to see you now and then. If you are executed, though, he will lose you for good. Besides, you are not free to make that offer. You belong to _me!_ Do you think _I_ wish to see you killed or left to die or cruelly mutilated beyond any possibility of recovery or healing, without the chance to protect you?! Because _that_ is it what you risked today!"  
  
Legolas looked back at him and saw his eyes were still dark with grief and fear. Still, he could not bring himself to be grateful. Instead he felt betrayed and hurt.  
  
 _ **"I do not care!!!"**_ he spat back. "If it can spare Silivren my fate, and save more of my people, then I'd much rather face Elrond's punishment than see her delivered into his hands, too!"  
  
Aragorn slapped him, hard. "You forget your place!" he snapped. "You have no leave to yell at me!"  
  
Legolas jumped, startled. He could see that Aragorn was more hurt and angry at his words than truly upset at his tone and disrespect, yet was quickly losing patience. He ducked his head.  
  
"Forgive me, master," he mumbled.  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "You will be punished," he said, "and it needs to be thorough. You heard Lord Elrond. Yes, it seems I will have to work on you very thoroughly indeed, tonight."  
  
The Elf shuddered.  
  
Then he looked up again and said, still a bit defiantly: "Punish me if you must. But still I would much rather die or face mutilation, if it could spare Silivren from slavery, and save more of my people from this fate." He waited for another slap that never came.  
  
Instead, Aragorn took his face into his hands and held his gaze. "And I do understand," he said, "for were our places reversed, I would choose the same. But you don't have that choice. Nor do I think your sacrifice would do more than postpone her fate. Lord Elrond is intent to take all your siblings hostage. Were you to sacrifice yourself the way you intended, I fear he would simply find another reason all too soon."  
  
Quietly he offered: "I'm sorry, Little Leaf. Please do not throw away your life for something that can't even be changed by your sacrifice."  
  
Legolas closed his eyes. He leaned forward, and Aragorn caught him within his arms and held him tightly while he finally allowed the tears to flow unhindered. Aragorn petted him soothingly, yet made no further attempt to console him, since he knew well how useless that would be.  
  
Behind them they heard a clear, decisive voice: "It will not come to that!"  
  
Aragorn turned without releasing Legolas from his arms. There stood Glorfindel again, glorious in his fierceness: a golden headed Elf with regal bearing and the strong, fierce light in his gaze of one who had seen Valinor during the Time of Trees1.  
  
Aragorn gave him a respectful bow, yet did not rise from his current position on the floor, still holding his slave. Calmly he said: "My Lord Glorfindel, I have to thank you for your kind words and your defense of Legolas today. It is good to see you back in Rivendell. I am sorry that I found no time to speak to you before the council."  
  
Legolas disentangled himself from his master's hug, yet Aragorn did not completely let go of him and still held one of his arms. He bowed his head deeply to the Noldor Lord and echoed his master's greeting. "My Lord!" he said. "I have to thank you, too!"  
  
Glorfindel nodded back at him. "Do not fear, Greenleaf," he said, "Mithrandir is working on Lord Elrond as we speak. He will convince him to lift his ruling concerning Mirkwood's penance and your sister. This is not a time when we can afford to weaken ourselves and our defenses by fights between our kin and by pointless cruelty towards each other. Mithrandir will make him see that, too!"  
  
He left his place and knelt beside them. He took Legolas' hands. "Ai, Legolas! I'm glad to see you well again! When I came back to Rivendell and heard in what state Estel found you, I greatly berated myself that I didn't take care of your needs before I left!"  
  
Legolas just stared at him for a moment. He was overwhelmed. For a moment he found no words to express his gratitude, and he did not dare to truly hope or allow himself to be relieved, yet. In his confusion, he finally mumbled the first thing that came to his mind, a more automatic response and not in the least what he truly wanted to say.  
  
"Thank you, My Lord," he stammered, then he caught himself a bit and gave the older Elf a grateful nod. "There is no need for you to berate yourself for this, My Lord Glorfindel," he added, "Estel healed me well. And you know why we deemed it better at the time to wait for his return."  
  
The golden headed Noldor looked at him sadly. "I remember it well, yet it was an ill decision. Your master was just in time to save you. I should never have allowed myself to risk your life like that!"  
  
He sighed. "However, concerning your troubles, Thranduilion, I tell you again you need not fear. Lord Elrond will be forced to go back on his decision. There will be no penalty for Mirkwood for Gollum's escape, neither on your sister and your people, nor on you. More so, your participation in this quest may yet bring freedom for your people."  
  
Legolas finally gathered himself together. He looked at Glorfindel with reluctant hope. Hesitantly he said: "My heart desires greatly to believe you, My Lord Glorfindel. But Mithrandir has tried to change Lord Elrond's mind concerning our fate before and has yet to succeed."  
  
Glorfindel nodded a bit regretfully. "That is true," he said, "yet this time is different. This Quest concerns the fate of all people of Middle Earth and it is a much greater matter than the escape of a mere prisoner. And in the war that is upon us we will only have a chance when all people of Middle Earth stand together. Elrond will be forced to go back on his judgment this time."  
  
Legolas still looked reluctant to believe him fully, but he bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, My Lord. I do hope that you will be right in this," he said hesitantly.  
  
Glorfindel smiled at him.  
  
"By the way, I wish to pay you my respect for what you did today. To offer yourself as sacrifice to protect your people – that was a noble deed. Even if your offer was not accepted, you acted like a true prince of your people."  
  
Legolas ducked his head. "I am no prince anymore, My Lord" he said bitterly, "I am a slave. And my offer was made without authorization of my master. I am afraid I failed him by making it."  
  
Glorfindel raised his brows. "Still it was honorably done," he said. "Slave you may be, yet you are still a scion of the house of Oropher, and never did it show more than today. Surely Aragorn would see that, too?" He graced the Ranger with the full weight of his gaze.  
  
Aragorn shook his head.  
  
"I told him it was bravely done, but very stupid," he said. "I doubt that any sacrifice of Legolas would do more than postpone Lord Elrond's plans. He seems intent to bring Thranduil grief at all costs. I would not have him do that using Legolas, not more than he has already done by enslaving him, anyway."  
  
Glorfindel still looked at him and Aragorn resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze. "Even a postponement might be enough to save many lives," the Balrog Slayer said. "And Legolas offered his life of his own free will, without hesitation. You should honor that, son of Arathorn!"  
  
Aragorn could not help blushing, yet he held his gaze. "I do," he said. "I am just loath to see him die at Elrond's hands or to stand idly by and see him executed on a whim alone. Besides, My Lord, I still doubt very much that it would do any good for his people. Not more than he can do at my side on this Quest, anyway." He turned back to Legolas. "And I know you can do more good for them as long as you live," he added quietly and fiercely. "Especially on this Quest!"  
  
Legolas just bowed his head. He said nothing.  
  
Glorfindel sighed. "Well, your master may be right at least in this," he said. "Your participation on this Quest may be enough to repay any debt Mirkwood may have owed in the past. If we succeed, as a reward, the ban on Mirkwood may be lifted and there will be no further hostages from your realm."  
  
Legolas looked at him, eyes wide. Aragorn looked sharply up and locked his gaze with Glorfindel's again. _"Do not promise that!"_ he said fiercely and harshly. "You can not enforce it! Nor can Mithrandir!"  
  
Legolas looked back at him, pale and betrayed. Glorfindel stared coldly at Aragorn.  
  
"You fear to lose your slave?" he asked. "You are loath to give him up, as you would have to do should Mirkwood be free again?"  
  
Aragorn still held Legolas' shoulder with one hand, and now he gripped him, hard. "I would not want to be bereft of him, that much is true," he said with brutal honesty, "Even if I were to lose Legolas to freedom and not to death, it would be hard on me to part with him. But even more important is the fact that _you don't have the power_ to force Elrond to agree to that. Do not make promises to my slave that you can't enforce! Nothing will rend a heart more than betrayed hope and trust, and Legolas deserves better!"  
  
Legolas bowed his head again and looked down bitterly.  
  
"There is no freedom for me, anyway," he said. "As long as I remain under the spell."  
  
Aragorn gazed back at him, sad and troubled. It was true, yet it dismayed him greatly that his slave seemed so loath to remain with him. Although he had to admit that the thought was selfish, he had still hoped that Legolas would maybe even remain with him out of his free will if he but had a choice. Yet probably that time was long in the past now, if it had ever truly existed.  
  
Glorfindel looked dismayed. "That is true," he said. "As long as the spell remains unbroken, you and the other hostages under the spell will remain slaves. And we now know no way to have the spell undone."  
  
He drew a deep breath.  
  
"Still, if the Quest succeeds, we can at least try to force Elrond not to demand any more hostages. You and the other hostages bound by the curse may remain slaves, but the rest of your people shall be safe at last. That much at least he may be forced to accept, or so I hope."  
  
Aragorn petted the trembling shoulder under his hands. "You _hope_ ," he said, "Yet you do not _know_. Meanwhile, Legolas remains under my power and in my possession. And Lord Elrond demands I punish him tonight. He will not retreat from that, at least."  
  
He felt the Elf under his hands starting to tremble even more and gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "I'm sorry, Little Leaf," he said. "But you left me no choice. If you are to leave Rivendell with me, I'll have to punish you, and do it thoroughly enough that he will find no reason to do it himself."  
  
Legolas trembled harder, yet he bowed his head. Glorfindel looked dismayed.  
  
Aragorn shrugged.  
  
"Besides, I would have to punish you anyway," he said. He looked at his slave. "You had no call to blurt out my identity to the man of Gondor!"  
  
Legolas shook under his hand, but still bowed his head to him. "I am sorry, master," he said, as it was expected,"I will take gratefully whatever punishment you give to me." His voice broke. He was seized by fear and grief, and by sheer exhaustion born out of his inner turmoil. He knew that Aragorn spoke the truth; Elrond's demand had been clear enough.  
  
But he feared the night. To face Estel's games, even the most harsh and cruel ones, was one thing. To face a thorough punishment that would satisfy the Lord of Rivendell was something completely different, even if the fact that Aragorn would mete it out himself would hopefully ensure that he at least survived it. It did not matter that Aragorn would find pleasure in the whole thing, too. This was still about penance, and that meant it would be much darker than any game Aragorn loved to play. He feared what Aragorn would do to him, and he feared he would not be able to bear it. Not if it was _Estel_ who was hurting him like that.  
  
Aragorn kissed his brow. "Go to your father's people, then," he said, "to bid them farewell. Tell them they need not fear for you, nor for your sister. Glorfindel is right. I think Mithrandir might succeed at least with that, for my foster father can hardly afford to enforce this while we are on this Quest and have to face this war, so do not fear for her."  
  
He felt Legolas tremble again and kissed him once more. "Hush! Do as I say. Come to me after the evening meal. Don't be late!"  
  
Glorfindel looked dismayed. He had been about to protest, yet he had heard Elrond's words and demands too. "Just do not be too hard on him," he warned. "Tomorrow, the fellowship will have an early start and you will travel a long day!"  
  
Aragorn nodded. "I will see to it," he said and released his slave's arm. Legolas rose,With a last bow to both Glorfindel and his master he went away.  
  
__________________ 0 _____________  
  
  
Glorfindel watched him go, then, as the slave had left the room and closed the door, he turned back to Aragorn and gave him a hard stare.  
  
"You do not wish to lose your slave," he accused angrily. "Even were Mirkwood freed you would still wish to claim him!"  
  
Aragorn nodded grimly.  
  
"I admit that it would pain me to part with him," he said, "even if I were to lose him to freedom, not to death. But even more I feel that bitterness may fill his heart if he were promised freedom for his people and felt himself betrayed. I would not have him hurt by false promises!"  
  
Glorfindel subjected him again to the full weight of his Elven gaze.  
  
"You care for him," he said, "yet it doesn't hurt you that while he remains your slave he has to bear your needs."  
  
Aragorn merely looked back at him. "It does not hurt me," he admitted grimly. "Yet as long as the spell remains unbroken, we both have little choice and the question is moot. Except I could bestow him on you?"  
  
Glorfindel looked startled, then his gaze turned troubled. "You would wish to give him up?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn stared right back at him. _"Wish?"_ he asked, "Nay! I said that to lose him would be hard on me. But Legolas is dear to me, and I am mortal. I would be less troubled by his fate if I knew him to be safely bestowed on another Elf who could meet his needs under the spell who would treat him gently. You like and honor him and treat him with respect. I would be glad to know him in your care."  
  
Glorfindel held his gaze for a moment, searching for any kind of deception. When he found none, his gaze became even more troubled. Regretfully he shook his head no.  
  
"You shame me, Dunadan," he said. "Your request honors you. But I can not do that, Aragorn."  
  
He bowed his head.  
  
"I like Legolas well enough, and gladly I will give him what he needs for a few weeks while you are forced to be afar. But deeply I regret the day I let myself be drawn into that spell, and every time when I am forced to give it its due it wounds my soul anew. And I would not force myself on Legolas, nor do I wish to bond to him. Neither would he wish to bond to me."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Nor will I give him back to Elrohir and Elladan," he said, "and least of all I'll have him back in Elrond's hands."  
  
Glorfindel bowed his head even deeper. "No," he admitted. "You can't do that."  
  
Aragorn's face was grim. "I rather would kill him myself than condemn him to that fate," he said fiercely, "especially after today."  
  
Glorfindel said thoughtfully: "I think if you asked Legolas, that he'd much rather stay with you, and go to the Halls of Mandos when it is your time. He is loyal to you, and I do not think he would wish for another master. Though I would wish that you were less hard on him."  
  
Aragorn nodded again. Quietly and grimly he concluded: "As I said. I need him, and to lose him would be hard on me, but unless the spell were broken, I also hardly see another choice."  
Glorfindel looked troubled again.  
  
"But what will happen once you wed the Lady Arwen?" he asked. "What then shall become of him?"  
  
Aragorn answered thoughtfully: "There may be a solution. Just yesterday I spoke with Arwen about that. She may yet allow me to keep him."  
  
"Keep him?" Glorfindel asked incredulous, "besides your bond?!"  
  
Aragorn's face was grim.  
  
"Legolas _can_ not bind himself under the spell," he reminded. "He can not bind himself the Elven way, neither to me nor anybody else, even should he wish. And I am human. I can not bind myself your way, as much as _I_ may wish it. Arwen's bond with me won't be disturbed. And I'd much rather keep him than force on him another master who treats him even worse. Arwen agrees to this."  
  
Glorfindel looked deeply disturbed.  
  
"This arrangement sound ill to me," he said, "yet until the spell can be broken I see no other way. I hope that Legolas will heal in Mandos once it is your time. Still, I will mourn his passing, as I will mourn the Lady Arwen, and you."  
  
Aragorn smiled at him.  
  
"It is early yet to mourn me and my future wife," he said. "Great danger awaits us. I may die on this Quest or in the war; Arwen may yet choose to go to Valinor. I am hardly married and much less I am already king yet." He made a face. "Not that I ever wished to be," he added, "or would even make a good one!"  
  
Glorfindel cocked his head. "You still fear to face your destiny," he observed, "yet it would give you the power to protect those who you love." He hesitated a moment, then continued seriously: "And for me your lifetime lasts only a blink, even though I've already visited the Halls of Mandos once. Still I say you will make a good king, Dunadan." As if in an afterthought he added: "At least if you can learn to wash more often!"  
  
Aragorn laughed. He was grateful for the Elven Lord's attempt to lighten the mood.  
  
"Then I will leave you now so I may find the time to do so once more before our journey starts tomorrow, My Lord Elf," he said. "After all I do not wish to harm your nose!"  
  
He stood and bowed, then left.  
  
Glorfindel looked after him, still troubled. Sighing, he stood too and went to attend the midday meal in the great hall. After the meal he went off to search Legolas. He was sure the slave could use somebody to talk to and to console him, if possible.  
  
__________________ 0 _____________  
  
  
\- End of Part II -  
  
  
\-- TBC ---  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) The two Trees of Valinor, Laurelin the Golden and Telperion the Silver One, predating the sun and moon, which are indeed their last two living fruits. The Trees were slain by Morgoth, which started the War of the Jewels and the exile of the Noldor. Technically, Glorfindel as a reborn Elf had not seen the Trees in his current incarnation, yet his fea (spirit) had and it was just enhanced by his travel through the Halls of Mandos.


	13. Preparations

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.  
All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkiens. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
\-- Part III: After The Council --  
  
  
 **XI. Preparations**  
  
  
The three Mirkwood warriors were relieved to see their prince coming back to them alive and obviously uninjured, yet they were alarmed at his troubled expression. They had packed already; they had planned to leave straight after the midday meal, but when they heard of the private Elven council to decide Mirkwood's punishment and were not allowed to join it, they decided to forsake any further hospitality of Elrond's house.  
  
Instead they took up a silent watch in front of the stairs where the invited Elves had vanished. There they waited for the fate of their prince. They feared for the worst. Seeing him back apparently in good health was reassuring.  
  
“My Lord,” Mitharas said, when Legolas came close, “What happened?”  
  
Legolas shook his head. “Not now!” he commanded. “You are packed? That is well! We'll make a detour to the kitchens to pack supplies. The cook will give us some. Then you must leave immediately. I do not wish any of you to stay in this house one moment longer than absolutely necessary.”  
  
They looked all three at him. He shook his head.  
  
“Not now,” he said again. “Trust me. I'll tell you in the stables. But we have to go now!” And he refused to answer any questions while they went to get supplies.  
  
It took them less than half an hour. Then they went straight to the stables and led their horses out.  
  
They had barely left the stables, though, when they were caught by Elrond and his chief advisor Erestor. The Lord of Imladris was surrounded by five guards with bows.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Elrond said. “Already leaving?”  
  
Legolas bowed respectfully to him. “My Lord,” he said, still taking the role of the representative of his people, “the road is long and my father's messengers have a long way before them. They are eager to bring my father the tidings of this council.”  
  
Elrond raised a brow at him. “Did you tell them of my judgment then, young Thranduilion?” he asked with false mildness.  
  
Legolas bowed his head. He shook with suppressed hatred, yet he forced himself to remain calm. It would not do to attack Elrond now, not with the five armed warriors standing beside him. “Not yet, My Lord.”  
  
Elrond shrugged. “Very well. Then hear it from me. Mirkwood's punishment for Gollum's escape is postponed until this Quest is done. You have Gandalf to thank for that, young Thranduilion, for he convinced me that right now we can't waste our strength with concerns about penance for former failures. In fact, your partaking in this Quest may be enough to pay for Mirkwood's debt in this. Should the Quest be a success and the One Ring be destroyed, I will see this as payment enough to make up for the escape of this prisoner and will not demand any further penance for it of you or your father's realm.”  
  
Legolas took a deep, relieved breath. It was not as good as Glorfindel had prophesied, but it was better than he himself had dared to hope. “Thank you, My Lord,” he said.  
  
Elrond scowled at him. _“However,”_ he snarled, “I would advise you to ensure that this Quest does not fail. Because if it does, I swear to you that I will see your sister enslaved and all your other siblings killed, even if it is the very last thing I do!”  
  
Legolas looked at him, pale and horrified. He felt himself shaking, yet he did not dare to jump forward and attack the other Elf. He knew that Elrond only waited for such an attempt, so he would have an excuse to have him killed – and with him the three warriors behind him. Again, his arm reached out in a quick gesture to hold them back, and to his relief they obeyed him.  
  
Elrond's eyes glittered. “Do you not wish to thank me, Mirkwood spawn?” he sneered.  
  
Legolas swallowed. It took all his willpower to bow, then kneel formally to Imladris' lord. “Thank you, My Lord,” he said with enforced calmness, “I will remember your warning. I will do anything in my power to ensure that this Quest will succeed.”  
  
Elrond still watched him with eyes full of malice and hatred. Finally, when it became clear that neither the slave nor the Mirkwood warriors would be provoked into an attack, his lips thinned and he scowled again. “See to it!” he just said. With a malicious jeer he added: “And remember, I will check on you tomorrow!”  
  
Then he turned around and walked away. Erestor followed him.  
  
So did the five guards.  
  
Very slowly, trembling in hate and fear, Legolas got up again and turned to his kin.  
  
Mitharas stared at him. Bregolas shook with the suppressed urge to attack and kill. Belldoron looked pale and shaken. Mitharas found his voice first.  
  
“What was that,” he managed to ask, “about Her Highness, the princess, and your other siblings?”  
  
Legolas took a deep, shaken breath. “A threat of punishment,” he said, “that he will carry out if the Quest fails. He wished to carry it out much sooner. I failed today, Mitharas. My offer to stand in punishment was denied.”  
  
And he filled them in about the main issues of the private council Elrond had held, the denial of his own offer to stand in penance, since he was now part of the fellowship, and the punishment for Mirkwood Elrond had finally decided on, and that now seemingly had been postponed. He left out the part about the punishment by his master that he would have to face tonight.  
  
From the side of the stable building suddenly a voice spoke in Silvain(1): “It will not come to that.”  
  
Alarmed, Legolas and the three other Elves looked around for the source of the voice. To Legolas' surprise it was Elladan who stepped out of the shadow of the building and strolled over to them. He stepped close to Legolas and sized him up with a considering look.  
  
“Don't worry, Woodelf Princeling,” he said in very broken Silvain. “Father is just furious he did not get his hands on you today. You will do greatly on the Quest, and it will succeed. Estel will see to it!”  
  
Legolas stared at Elrond's oldest son, dumbfounded. He had not even known Elladan spoke Silvain. Estel had made Legolas teach him the language bit by bit after their first visit at his home, and by now he understood and even spoke it well. Maybe Elladan and Elrohir had learned the language in the same way from other Mirkwood slaves. Or they had learned it during their rare visits in his fathers realm during their Orc hunts. But they had never bothered to speak it in his presence. Elrond, as far as he knew, did not speak the language, though. Nor would most of his eavesdroppers.  
  
“Thank you, My Lord,” he answered in the same language. “Yet unfortunately, nothing is certain now. We may yet fail.”  
  
Elladan shrugged. “If the quest fails, we all will have other and more dire concerns. Believe me, if it comes to that, Silivren will be the _very last_ of my fathers worries. Although I do not think that this would be much better for her fate. Mirkwood would be as overrun by Orcs, as would we.” He grinned suddenly. “But I think it will not come to that. As I said, I do not doubt the Quest will be successful. Estel will see it done.” He reached out and touched Legolas' arm.  
  
Legolas suppressed a shiver at his touch. He remembered only too well the time when he had belonged to the twins. They weren't pleasant memories. Still, for the sake of his three warriors, he managed not to flinch.  
  
Elladan smiled at him. “By the way, I was impressed by Estel's performance today. He saved your life, you know. He fought for you like a she-bear for her child,” he teased. “Don't worry, Estel will see the Quest succeed, if only to keep you and your people safe!” He shook his head. “He cares much for you,” he said. “You will guard his back, will you? Because, if you do not and he should fall, you can not come to us.”  
  
Legolas could not stop himself. Angrily he asked: “Are you threatening me, too?”  
  
Elladan shook his head. “No. I am just telling you that we will not save you if he should fall. We would not take you back then. But I know you will not let that happen anyway. You like him too much. As he does you. You are lucky that he is your master.”  
  
Legolas didn't answer. He thought of the punishment that awaited him that night at Estel's hands and couldn't speak.  
  
Yet there was one question he needed to be answered.  
  
With harshly controlled anger he asked: “Elladan. Did you tell your Lord father of my sister?”  
  
He did not know what he would do if Elladan said yes. It would not do to throttle the son of Elrond in the very courtyard of Imladris, yet he doubted he'd be capable of stopping himself.  
  
Elladan raised a brow at his tone. “No, little Woodelf,” he said. “You did so yourself. Or did you think that you and Aragorn remained completely unobserved this morning?” He shrugged casually. “Ironically, father himself overheard you two by chance when he walked past your window. He was livid.”  
  
Legolas paled even more. Elladan shrugged again. “However, father has been intent on getting her for some time. Had he succeeded today in having you killed, he would have demanded her as replacement anyway. What did you think, that your death could have saved her?”  
  
Legolas closed his eyes. He bowed his head. He was very close to breaking at this moment.  
  
Elladan traced his face. “Don't worry so, Pet,” he said lightly. “You will succeed with this mission and save her. Afterwards, Father can hardly demand her anymore. You'll see. It will be well!”  
  
With that he went away. Legolas trembled. After a moment he felt Mitharas' hands closing around his shoulders and lending him support. He opened his eyes again.  
  
They were all shaking with anger. Bregolas said: _“My Lord, let me put an arrow into that bastard!”_  
  
Legolas shook his head. As tempting as the prospect was, the price would be too high. Regretfully, he said: “No, you can't. For then we all would have to pay for it dearly.”  
  
Bitterly, he turned to them. “Tell father that he has my love and that I will do all I can to make sure this Quest succeeds. Give Silivren my love. Make sure she hides somewhere during this war. Have a safe journey,” he said. “Valar willing, I will see you all again.”  
  
Bregolas scowled. Belldoron and Mitharas looked troubled.  
  
Finally Mitharas spoke. “Have a safe journey, too, My Lord. May the Valar aid you and help you in this Quest.”  
  
Belldoron bowed to him. “May you succeed, my prince,” he said.  
  
Bregolas laid a hand on Legolas shoulder. “You will see it done, captain,” he said fiercely and convinced. “I know you will!”  
  
Legolas gave him a grateful smile. “I'll try to, Bregolas,” he said. “I will represent Mirkwood after all.”  
  
They shared a warrior's embrace, then he saw them off.  
  
Afterwards he went into the wood and searched for an old, strong tree to climb and hide in, where he could calm down and find solace. He found it near one of the waterfalls in one of his favorite places; this old beech had stood here nearly as strong and mighty as it was now when he first came to Rivendell, and it had always given him refuge. He climbed up and found a comfortable place on a thick, inviting branch. And there he huddled himself together, leaning against the big, old, reassuring trunk and finally allowed his fear and hurt to overwhelm him.  
  
There Glorfindel found him later.  
  
________________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas was not at the midday meal. In fact, Aragorn saw nothing more of him for the whole day. Aragorn occupied himself with preparations for the start of their journey next day, and with planning and many discussions with Elrond and Gandalf, and finally, when he went to his rooms, with the preparation of both their packs.  
  
Yet Legolas was not at their rooms, either.  
  
When Legolas failed to turn up for the evening meal, too, Aragorn began to worry.  
  
He contemplated the ominously empty seat beside him that he earlier had reserved for his slave, his mood rapidly darkening. Legolas had been very troubled when he left. Aragorn did not really believe that he would try to flee, or harm himself, since he would never risk more punishment to his people or his fellow hostages, but still...  
  
When the meal drew to a close, Aragorn was ready to jump up and leave in search for his missing Elf. He was prevented by Elladan settling himself down beside him.  
  
“Stop worrying so, Estel,” he teased, “Your Woodelf pet left this afternoon for the wood. He is probably just busy saying his farewells to every single tree.”  
  
Elrohir settled himself on his other side. “Besides, father told him this afternoon that Mirkwood's punishment is postponed. He uttered some threats, of course, but that's just father. Your pet knows that the threat to his precious sister is averted for the time being.”  
  
“And Glorfindel went to talk to him,” Elladan added. “So relax and stop worrying. Your pet will show up at the time you demanded.”  
  
Aragorn looked at them, narrowing his eyes. “Thank you,” he offered carefully and with reserve. Then he added in a less friendly tone: “What do you want?”  
  
The older of the twins, Elladan, wrinkled his brows. “You hurt us, Estel!” he said theatrically, “Do we have to want something to talk to you?”  
  
Aragorn merely raised a brow. Elrohir gave in. “We wondered, when you work on him tonight, if you would let us watch?” he asked. Elladan added on his other side: “Or maybe even participate?”  
  
Aragorn balled his fists. He gave the older twin an angry stare.”No, I will not.” he said, then added angrily: “Did father sent you to ask me this?”  
  
Elladan quirked a brow. Elrohir shook his head. “He didn't,” he said, “and he wouldn't approve of our request anyway. He thinks we like your pet too well. He's right, by the way. We do.”  
  
Elladan added: “Legolas is exquisite. It is a shame that you do not share him with us anymore as you once used to do. We had good times, all three enjoying him together.”  
  
Elrohir smiled. “A few times he even seemed to enjoy it too.”  
  
Aragorn growled. “I do not plan to share him with you anymore,” he said, “especially since you nearly let him die this time when I was away in Bree. What were you thinking? You had to know that father would not give a damn if he lived or died. Or rather, that he would let him die, as I understand now.”  
  
Elladan sighed. “Peace,” he said, “we had no intention to letting him die. We thought you would return sooner, just in time for him to be all desperate and needy for you. And Legolas agreed.”  
  
“We do not wish him harm,” Elrohir added. “Unlike father, we both do like your pet. You know that, Estel.”  
  
Aragorn forced himself to calm down. After all it was just Elrohir and Elladan, acting like he had always known them. They were just their usual charming selves. He should be used to them by now.  
  
But he had spent too much time apart from them, and in moments like these he felt every single year.  
  
With enforced calmness he said: “I will not let you watch or participate tonight. Nor anybody else. I plan to make this private, and I will not let anybody interfere. Not you nor Lord Elrond or anybody he might wish to appoint. This matter is mine.”  
  
Elladan nodded graciously, and Elrohir bowed his head at him in acknowledgment. “Very well,” he said, “just be aware that there surely will be listeners tonight. And father will surely check on Legolas tomorrow. You can not afford to be too gentle,” he warned.  
  
Elladan added: “Father is out for your pet's blood. He wants to see him killed.”  
  
Aragorn looked grimly to the top of he table, where Elrond, Gandalf, Erestor and Galdor were caught in a lively discussion. He himself had chosen a seat farther down, close to the Hobbits, in the hope that Legolas would join him there once he showed up. Luckily, the eager chatter of Merry and Pippin with Boromir covered his own quiet conversation with Elrond's twins. He did not care to have it overheard, since he knew that Frodo, at least, understood the Elven language.“I am aware of that,” he said quietly.  
  
Then he looked back at the twins. He had an idea. “Would you do me a favor?” he asked.  
  
Elrohir rose a brow at him. “In spite of your lack of hospitality?” he asked with faked reservation. Elladan gave his twin a censuring look. “What is it, Estel?” he asked. “What can we do for you?”  
  
Aragorn smiled at them. “Secure some extra _Lembas(2)_ ,” he asked. “It is well that Legolas missed all his meals today, considering what waits for him tonight, but tomorrow he will be all the more direly in need of nourishment. I would have an extra portion for him to nibble on our way.”  
  
Both twins smiled. “Will do!” Elladan assured him. “And we will get you some _Miruvor(3)_ , too. You can feed your pet right while you travel.”  
  
“And maybe, when the two of you come back, you can rethink our request,” Elrohir added. “Maybe you will be more willing to share your pet with us for a night or two again when it's just about fun.”  
  
Aragorn just looked at them. “Maybe,” he said. In his own mind, he added: _'When it snows in Harad(4),'_ but he did not say that aloud.  
  
They laughed at his expression. To his relief, they left him then, and he could finish his meal and go to his chambers.  
  
To his disappointment, his slave still wasn't there. He occupied himself with preparations for the night, yet his mood did not improve by the waiting. It was well over an hour after the evening meal when Legolas finally showed up, and by that time Aragorn was thoroughly angry.  
  
_____________________ o _______________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) Silvain, the language of the Wood Elves or Green Elves, is one of the three Elven languages that were still in use in Middle Earth at the time of the Ring Quest. The commonly used Elvish was Sindarin, the language of the Grey Elves. Quenya, the language of the High Elves who had seen Valinor, was not in common use anymore, but merely a language of the books, a kind of „Elven Latin“. Silvain, however, was at that time a dying language, slowly being replaced by Sindarin, and was still spoken only in Mirkwood. Therefore it was a way for the Mirkwood Elves to talk in a language the common Elves of Rivendell and of Lothlorien wouldn't understand. Or so they _thought_ at least.  
  
2) _Lembas_ : Elven way-bread, much more nourishing than any bread of men, and easy on the stomach, too. Unfortunately, it is also much more precious than normal bread and held nearly sacred by the Elves, and therefore it is not easy to obtain.  
  
3) _Miruvor_ : Elven cordial.  
  
4) _Harad_ is a land far in the south of Middle Earth, with hot, arid climate and probably very little or no snow at all.


	14. Punishment

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.  
All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions.  _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
 **Special warnings for this chapter** :  
This chapter contains _BDSM and torture, in graphic detail, as well as non-con and debatable consent!_ In this story, Aragorn is a _sadist_ , meaning that he needs his partner to suffer in pain to get aroused and come to completion, and that he gets aroused by applying such pain. _This chapter deals with that aspect._ If you don't want to read this, I advise you to **skip** this chapter entirely, and read on with **Chapter XIII: The Morning After**. There it should be safe to read again. Also, you should still be capable of following what's going on if you do so. :)  
  
If you _do_ wish to read this chapter, please do so at your own discretion! _I mean it!_  
  
For all other warnings, for disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
 **XII. Punishment**  
  
  
Legolas made his way hesitantly to the chambers of his master. He knew he was late, and this would add to his punishment; yet he did not think that it really mattered much anymore.  
  
At least he had prepared himself the way his master liked it; he had visited the baths, cleansed and purged himself, but had not yet prepared his entrance. Aragorn would want to do that himself, if he even bothered to do it at all tonight.  
  
Legolas trembled.  
  
He entered the chambers he shared with his master fearful in anticipation. Aragorn was already there. He had opened the big trunk near the bed and laid out some of its contents. He had also lit some of the candles. The big ones, of fine white wax, that burned hot and brightly and gave a lot of light.  
  
Aragorn looked around to him as he entered, but did not smile.  
  
"You are late," he stated flatly. "Enter. Close the door and bolt it."  
  
Legolas shuddered at the tone. Aragorn was in a terrible mood tonight. Wordlessly, he obeyed, then stepped into the middle of the room to wait for further commands.  
  
Aragorn regarded him.  
  
"Come closer!" he commanded.  
  
Legolas obeyed.  
  
The Ranger moved around him, sizing him up appraisingly with a long look-over. The slave wore fresh garments, he was freshly bathed, and his hair and skin were still somewhat damp. He stood before his master with demurely bowed head, looking to the ground.  
  
Aragorn nodded approvingly. "I see you have cleansed. Have you also purged yourself?" he asked.  
  
Legolas blushed, but nodded.  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes. "Good," he said, "You are prepared, I see. That is well, for this will be a long night."  
  
Then he commanded harshly: "Close the windows. The shutters, too. Then light the other candles."  
  
Shivering, the slave obeyed. Soon, the room was closed off from the outside world, but lit brightly by a great number of candles that gave soft, warm light.  
  
Silently, Legolas moved back to the spot in the middle of the room to wait for his master's orders.  
  
Aragorn regarded him with a dark look.  
  
"You are finished? Good. Undress!" he ordered.  
  
Swallowing hard, the slave obeyed. He had been punished before, even harshly, and he was used to Estel's games, but rarely he had seen Aragorn in such a dangerous and stormy mood at these occasions. Slowly, he slipped out of his boots, then his clothes, and folded them neatly, placing them on a chair. Then he stood again before his master, head bowed, in unprotected nakedness.  
  
Aragorn took a slim, straight whip from the bed and moved around him. It was one of the smaller ones that stung and bit deeply into the skin when used. Slowly, he let the tip of the lash trail over the naked skin of the slave, not hurting yet but tracing all the places where it would bite in later. At a small gesture, Legolas moved his legs further apart, and the whip trailed his thighs, then his genitals.  
  
"Do you know how much you embarrassed me today?" Aragorn asked. "First by offering to take the punishment for Mirkwood without my authorization, forcing me to explain that you acted without my accord, only to then go on and contradict Lord Elrond when he stated his judgment! And not only that, but also you blurted out my true identity unbidden at the council for all to hear, and then attacked and insulted that man of Gondor."  
  
The whip trailed up to the chest of the slave, under his chin, tipping it up lightly and forcing him to meet his master's gaze.  
  
"Have you nothing to say for yourself?"  
  
Legolas swallowed. Commanded to speak like that he slowly bowed his head again in a submissive gesture.  
  
"I am sorry, master," he said quietly and fearfully. "I request punishment, if you would grace me with it."  
  
The whip tipped his chin up again. Aragorn commanded: "Look at me!" Slowly and hesitantly, the slave obeyed. Aragorn met his fearful gaze and nodded.  
  
"And punishment you shall receive. It will be a thorough one. I cannot go too hard on you tonight, since you need to be capable of travelling tomorrow, or this would last not only for one night, but for several days. But even so I will make sure that the pain I will inflict on you tonight will linger for a week! It will not hinder you from traveling, not even hamper you if we come into a fight, but you shall certainly feel it! This will be part of your punishment for what you did today. Do you understand?"  
  
The Elf nodded. He was deadly pale now.  
  
"Do you agree? Do you thank me for it?" Aragorn asked.  
  
Legolas suppressed a sob. "Yes, master," he managed to say, as was expected of him. "You... are gracious."  
It was part of the ritual and he would have to pay for it if he failed to thank his master for his penance, but he nearly choked on the words.  
  
Aragorn didn't seem to notice. He just nodded.  
  
"Good," he said grimly. "Now get on that ladder and pull the rope through the ring in the ceiling. I will suspend you for this, so I will have better access to your body with my whip. When you are finished, secure the rope to the ring in the floor and hang the yoke to the other end. And hurry! The night is not getting younger while you delay."  
  
Legolas had paled even more. But now he swallowed and set himself to work as he was commanded. He was constantly trembling now. Normally, Aragorn himself used to take care of such preparations. This time, he obviously wished to add to his slave's punishment by forcing him to prepare the means of his own torture. While he worked, taking the slender wooden steps from the corner where they normally served as a stand for weapons and placing them in the middle of the room under the big iron ring in the ceiling, then fetching the rope from the trunk and climbing up to thread it through the ring, he dared to cast a careful look at the items Aragorn had selected from the trunk and laid out on the bed, ready to use. He swallowed again, fear gathering like an lump of ice within his stomach.  
  
The big paddle, the nipple clamps, a selection of whips, and some needles were no surprise to him. These were some of Aragorn's favorite toys for his bed games with his slave and were to be expected. But there was also a new, hideously thick pleasure staff. He recognized the thing as the one Elrond had maliciously given Aragorn to use on his slave as a gift for Legolas' begetting day a few weeks earlier. Aragorn had not yet tried it out on him, because since then they had had to deal with more pressing needs. Obviously he planned to rectify that now.  
  
But while that thing was horrifying enough, beside it rested an only too well known vial. Irritant! Aragorn planned to use the big staff on him with irritant! The sharp oil hurt enough all on its own when it was applied to the most sensitive parts of his body. Together with the staff it would be agonizing.  
  
Biting back the tears that threatened to escape, Legolas stepped down from the ladder again and took one end of the rope to the ring set exactly for that purpose into the floor at one of the walls. He tied the rope to it, then went back to the trunk to get the yoke; a heavy wooden thing originally used at some farm, that Aragorn had obtained one day and now used for some of his more intense games with his slave when they were here in Imladris. He heaved the thing out of the trunk and carried it back to the steps, then tied it to the rope. Afterwards he went back to the wall and wound the rope around three big iron anchors embedded there for this purpose, until the heavy yoke was dangling from the ceiling about two or three feet higher than he stood himself. Finally he went back to secure the restraints that would bind him to the yoke at his master's pleasure.  
  
The whole time his stomach was churning in fear and he had to fight the impulse to flee, or to attack. Yet he suppressed it. There was no escape out of this room save at his master's will, and there was no way out of this situation save upon Aragorn's decision. And Aragorn did not seem inclined to show him any leniency tonight.  
  
Aragorn had settled himself on the bed and watched him work. While Legolas was struggling to get the heavy yoke up the steps and tie it to the rope, he said conversationally: "You know, originally I had planned anyway to take you thoroughly tonight."  
  
Cocking his head and watching his slave with glittering eyes, he continued with the same, deceptively casual voice: "But I had planned this night to be special, something slow and careful and intense, and solely for the sake of enjoyment. I had completely planned it out for weeks."  
  
More harshly he added: "And you ruined it! That will add to your punishment. This will be a night to remember for you!"  
  
There was a dangerous undertone in his voice, and Legolas suppressed a sob again. He was finished with his preparations and moved back to the spot where he had stood before, now directly under the dangling yoke.  
  
Aragorn nodded approvingly. He got up and stepped close. He seized the chin of his slave, tipped it up and kissed him deeply. When he pulled back, he said quietly: "You will suffer thoroughly tonight. But you will bear it bravely, will you not? You will do so for me. I know you will!"  
  
His voice was barely audible over the quiet sputtering of the flickering candles, yet Legolas, who stood less than a step before him, heard it clearly enough. He was confused, even more as the quiet reassurance was followed by a harsh command.  
  
"Now!" Aragorn said harshly as he let go of him, "Get yourself up to that yoke! Arms spread! Put your wrists to the restraints!"  
  
Legolas obeyed. He stepped up the steps again and set his wrists to the two ends of the wooden form. Aragorn stepped up after him and fastened the restraints around them, binding him tightly and with fully spread arms to the instrument of torture. Then he stepped down and back to the bed again. He took a big, long wooden staff and brought it back to his slave. Then he knelt and tied the end of the staff fast to one of Legolas ankles. He took the other ankle and commanded: "Spread!"  
  
Gasping and shivering in fear, the slave obeyed. He gasped again as the sudden weakening of his stance on the steps threatened his balance, and his master growled a terse "Be still!" Then Aragorn finished tying the ankle to the other end of the staff and removed the ladder, and Legolas gasped again as he lost his supporting stand and the sudden weight of his own body put strain on his back and shoulder blades. He shivered and struggled to remain calm.  
  
Aragorn put the ladder to the side, out of the way, and stepped back to admire his work. He regarded the spread-eagled slave with satisfaction and dark pleasure.  
  
"Beautiful!" he growled. "I think I may leave you like this for some time, at least for a start. Later I might prefer to let you stand and bow for me, though. I may have uses for your mouth tonight that would be a bit hampered by your current position."  
  
He went back to the wall and unwound a hand or two of the rope off the anchors until the bound feet of the slave were just about half a foot above the ground. While the spread-eagled Elf was still completely suspended, now every part of his body remained within easy reach for his tormentor. Legolas gasped as the sudden fall aggravated the strain on his arms and shoulders and sent bolts of pain though him. He bit his lips to try and remain silent, since he had not been allowed to speak or make any noise.  
  
Aragorn took a moment more to regard his work, then he set the ladder carefully back into its corner and came back to his slave.  
  
He stepped to the bed and picked up the discarded whip again. "Now," he growled, "my dear, disobedient Elf, you will learn what it means to earn my wrath! Do you request punishment?"  
  
Nearly inaudible, the slave answered: "Yes, master."  
  
"Do you ask me to grace you with it now?"  
  
Again, the slave whispered: "Yes, master."  
  
Aragorn corrected: "Yes, master, please."  
  
Legolas sobbed. "Yes, master, please. Please grace me with my punishment, if I may ask," he managed to say.  
  
Aragorn smiled grimly and caressed his thighs and butt one more time with the whip.  
  
"Brave Little Leaf!" he praised. "And so I will. You shall have it."  
  
And with that he let the first harsh blow fall on his slave's unprotected back.  
  
Legolas hissed. He was rewarded with another blow.  
  
"Be silent!" Aragorn commanded harshly. "This is just the start! This will be twenty blows for starters to your back, and twenty to your thighs, and another five to your ass. Later, I will give your rear a taste of the paddle. And I wish you to be silent through it, save I command you otherwise! If you make any noise, your buttocks will get twenty more!"  
  
Legolas swallowed. He did his best to keep silent as the whip bit into him again, but at the third lash he could not suppress a sob.  
  
Aragorn grinned.  
  
"All right," he said, stepping close and caressing the Elf's yet unbeaten buttocks with his hand, "so you seem to like this! Very well. You will have twenty-five lashes to your backside, then, and five more with the paddle. I am afraid you won't be able to sit for a while, Little Leaf!"  
  
Then he stepped back again and let the next blow fall.  
  
Legolas hissed, then sobbed again. The lashes were burning like fire on his back and the pain was ever increasing. Aragorn's blows were harsh, though he was mindful not to tear the skin; but even so the whip left angry red welts wherever it bit into the slave's back, and Legolas' trembling was constant now. Tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks and he was breathing hard. The next blow fell, and the next, and the Elf could not suppress his sobbing any more, although he tried to keep it quiet as he had been ordered.  
  
Aragorn kept whipping, methodically placing the lashes criss-cross the shoulder blades and back of his slave. He was mindful not to place too many blows directly to the shoulders, even where they were not covered by the yoke. Legolas would need to be capable of carrying his harness and his quiver when they started their journey tomorrow, although it would be extremely painful for the Elf. And in any case he had to restrain himself from doing too much damage tonight, since there was not much time to heal. Even so, his blows were meant to linger, and Legolas would bear the angry welts well into the next week.  
  
As always, seeing his slave's feeble attempts to escape, hearing his harsh breathing, his obediently checked sobs made him hard and burning with desire. But he would wait. The night was long, and he had much more planned for his slave, even if he could not go as slowly and carefully as he normally would have done.  
  
Even so, he felt the familiar connection build between them, felt himself focusing intently on every reaction of his helpless victim, felt his groin react directly to Legolas' every sob, every quiver and sign of pain, felt his own breathing quicken at the muffled noises of his slave's little whimpers. He finished on the back, stepping close and in front of his victim. Legolas face was barely higher than its normal level, and he just needed to tiptoe a bit to get himself to the height of his slave's mouth.  
  
He reached around to the back of his suspended victim and ran both his hands over the hurting welts. "So beautiful," he praised very quietly, "you are so beautiful like this, _melethron!_ " He held the dangling body under his hands close and kissed his victim, deeply. He pulled back and added still quietly: "You are a sight to behold!"  
  
Then he let go, stepped back and added louder and more harshly:  
  
"I advise you to keep from sobbing just yet, though. This is just the start! There is much more in store for you, and it is nothing more than you deserve! So be silent!  
  
He saw Legolas swallow and muffle another sob, and smiled. "Time to do your thighs. I will greatly enjoy taking you when they burn and hurt with every touch all next week!" he brutally said.  
  
And with that he stepped back behind his helpless victim and began methodically to whip his thighs and ass. By the time he was through, Legolas' few muffled sobs had turned into a constant, soft whimper, and the thighs and buttocks of the bound slave were bright red.  
  
Aragorn stepped close again and caressed the aching buttocks, then he went back to the bed, set the whip away and fetched the paddle.  
  
"Now! Brace yourself! Count!"  
  
Legolas could not suppress a scream as the first, hard blow fell on his burning, hurting ass. He sobbed, then tried to gather himself back through the haze of pain to follow the command he'd been given. Muffled and barely audible, but with effort, he mumbled: "One."  
  
Aragorn yanked his hair, drawing a startled hiss.  
  
"What was that? I didn't hear! Louder!" he commanded.  
  
Legolas fought for breath.  
  
"One, master," he said. "May I ask to be graced with another?"  
  
Aragorn let out a low, satisfied breath and let go of his hair. "Better," he growled. "Yes, you may."  
And with that he let the next blow fall.  
  
The pain was excruciating. Legolas muffled the scream that threatened to escape this time, but he could not suppress another sob and his violent shuddering. With great effort and shivering in fear and apprehension he found his voice and counted:  
  
"Second. May I ask you for the next one, master?"  
  
Inwardly he screamed: _'No! Oh, please, no! Please! No!'_ \-- but he knew there was no point in begging, it would merely earn him another punishment, given Aragorn's current mood.  
  
He could hear his master's smile in his voice. "Brave Little Leaf! Yes, you may. Now!"  
  
The third blow fell, and Legolas bit his lips to keep from screaming. The lashes had hurt and they still burned like fire, but this – the hard paddle biting his sore skin and his bruised, aggravated flesh – was nearly unbearable. And it was just a part of what was to come, he knew.  
  
"Third, master," he said shaken, when he found air enough to do so. His voice nearly choked on the ordered and expected question.  
  
"May I... may I ask... to have..."  
  
He could not say it. Finally Aragorn came to his aid. "Do you wish to have another one?" he asked harshly.  
  
Shivering, Legolas forced himself to give the expected answer. "Yes, master, please!"  
  
Inwardly, he screamed: _'Please, stop! Estel! No more! Please, please..'_  
  
Yet he did not dare to say it. This was punishment, not a game, and he would be more harshly and more cruelly punished if he broke the protocol that was expected of him. He did not wish to gain himself another five or seven blows.  
  
"And you shall have it," Aragorn said and delivered the fourth blow.  
  
Legolas screamed, then half swallowed the scream and merely sobbed. It took some time until he managed to utter: "Fourth."  
  
Behind him, he could hear Aragorn stepping close again and felt him caressing his burning, hurting ass. Very quietly, he could hear his master whisper to him: "You are doing this well, Little Leaf! You are magnificent! I am proud of you! Come on! It is just one more to bear, you can do this! Be brave for me. Come on!"  
  
He was barely audible between the sobs and whimpering of his victim and probably too quiet to be heard more then a few steps away, but his voice and words made their ways into Legolas muddled mind and restored a little of his strength. _Estel had not left him!_ He was still with him, although the harshness and cruelty of this punishment he was putting him through was new to Legolas and scared him to his core.  
  
With great effort and carefully gathered breath Legolas forced himself to ask: "May... May I have the next one... master?"  
  
He felt a last, hurting squeeze of his ass and a barely audible: "Brave Little Leaf!", then Aragorn stepped back and said aloud: "Yes, you may have it. This is the last one. Count, then thank me!"  
  
And the blow fell.  
  
He screamed again, then whimpered. Fighting with his bonds and the harsh strain on his back, he managed to get out: "Five... I... thank you... master, for... the just.. and thorough.. punishment."  
His voice was muffled in tears.  
  
Aragorn threw the paddle away, back to the bed, and stepped close again. He hugged him from behind, pressing him close, causing pain where the hurting buttocks and thighs and the welts on the back of the slave came in contact with the _Adan's_ hard body.  
  
"You did well," he said. "However, this was just the first part of your punishment. The next part follows now, and there is more to come after that. Keep silent! You have no leave to beg, scream, or speak save when you are commanded to do so!"  
  
He let go of his victim and stepped back to the bed. "It is time I prepared you now, since later I plan to sheathe myself in you. Albeit I plan to make good use of your mouth, tonight, too! But you do not deserve to be prepared merely with balm or oil to ease the way. So tonight I will use something more befitting your deeds."  
  
With that he took the vial with the irritant and stepped back to his shivering slave.  
  
Legolas trembled. He was confused and shaken with fear. He knew what was to come would hurt immensely, nearly unbearably, yet even more he was terrified by his tormentor's harshness and by his unprecedented cruelty. There was a new dark side to his master that he had not encountered this clearly and harshly ever before. Something deep within him screamed for _Estel_ , begged him to return, to stop hurting him, at least not this much, but he had been forbidden to beg for mercy or even to show pain, if not explicitly given leave to do it. Trembling with fear he waited for the threatened new torment.  
  
  
_____________ o _________________  
  
  
Aragorn opened the vial and coated his fingers in the irritant. Then he closed the vial again and set it carefully aside, before stepping close to the helpless, shivering slave again. One of his arms sneaked around the suspended body and held him firmly in place. The other found the quivering buttocks of the Elf and explored the cleft between them. He heard his victim gasp, then sob, swallowing a whimper, as the fingers made their way along the sensitive flesh to the unprotected entrance. Then he touched the puckered hole, and the slave in his grip jerked wildly and bit back a scream.  
  
His other hand found the lifeless, flat Elfhood of his victim and closed around it, and the slave jerked again. He squeezed, and his victim sobbed and trembled harder.  
  
"Hush! Be silent!" he commanded harshly. "You have no leave to sob or try to get away! This is nothing more than you deserve! Your tears will not avail you, for you are getting just the punishment you earned yourself! Remember that!"  
  
And with that, one of his fingers entered the tight, resisting passage.  
  
Legolas could not help himself. He tried to keep silent and to hold still, tried to make no attempt to move away, as he had been ordered, but he couldn't. The pain was just too great; the intruding finger with the stinging irritant was like a hot, burning stab of pure fire in his sensitive flesh, and he jerked wildly again and screamed.  
Yet he could not escape; Aragorn stood close behind him and pressed his body harshly against his own, holding him tightly in the grip of his other arm, and his suspended state did not give him any leverage.  
He screamed again, then sobbed and whimpered. His attempts to get away were rewarded with a harsh squeeze to his unprotected groin, and he sobbed anew.  
  
 _"Daro!"_ Aragorn bellowed, "Stop this immediately! _Now!_ "  
  
Trembling, the slave tried to obey, yet he nearly choked on the suppressed words of begging and the swallowed sobs of pain.  
  
"You earned yourself another punishment, Little Leaf," Aragorn said coldly. "I told you to keep silent! Now I will have to do your nipples, too. _After_ I close the clamps on them!"  
  
Something deep in Legolas' mind screamed: _'No! Oh, please, Estel, no! Please, stop! I can not bear this! It is too much! Please...!'_  
  
Yet he did not dare to say it aloud. He had been ordered not to, and besides, the Estel he had known and trusted was gone. He did not know this harsh side of the man who was his master. Through the haze of his horror, pain and fear he heard Aragorn's voice:  
  
"Now keep silent! Keep silent, or I'll have to gag you!"  
  
Trembling, the slave tried to obey.  
  
He felt the burning finger start to move within his flesh, felt it rub the irritant deep into him, and whimpered. Then the finger was withdrawn, only to be pushed harshly inside again. It hit his gland, and he gasped; then his tormentor repeated the motion and he could not keep silent anymore. He screamed again. There was another hard squeeze to his groin, drawing a helpless sob, then the finger was withdrawn, and his ass was harshly and painfully slapped. It hurt immensely. He felt as if his whole ass was on fire.  
  
"Another scream and it will be three more blows with the paddle," Aragorn warned. "I told you this is just the start!"  
  
Legolas breathed hard. He tried to take deep, deliberate breaths, to ride the pain, yet he couldn't. He was terrified. Aragorn coated his hands with the irritant again and stepped back close.  
  
He squeezed his slave's hurting buttocks, burning anew from irritant on the skin already sore from the severe beating. The squeeze drew a hiss, then more muffled sobs. Aragorn's freshly coated fingers wandered to the vulnerable cleft again. Quietly, he said: "Try to be brave for me, Little Leaf. At least try. You can do this!" He stepped into his former position again, sneaking his arm back around the stomach of his slave, and let his other hand drop back to the entrance of his victim. "Brace yourself. Now!" he commanded and entered the passage again. This time he used two fingers. He felt his slave tremble and quiver under his touch. Legolas hissed, but indeed managed not to scream again this time.  
  
"Brave Little Leaf!" Aragorn praised. "So you _can_ learn. Very well. I knew that you could do it! However, as I warned you, this is just the start. I'll stretch you now, to prepare you for your second punishment. So brace yourself, and open up for me. Feel this! Submit to it gracefully! You completely brought it onto yourself!"  
  
And with that he began methodically to stretch and tease the narrow passage, then moved on to finger-fuck his helpless victim. The slave gasped, then sobbed and whimpered helplessly. He did not dare to scream, yet he could not suppress the quiet, soft noises of pain that were constantly escaping him now. Although the intruding fingers repeatedly hit on his sweet spot and even lingered to rub and massage it, his Elfhood did not stir. The pain was just too great for any stimulation to succeed in causing arousal.  
  
After a few more harsh thrusts, the fingers were withdrawn, then returned with a third finger, then a fourth. Legolas whimpered constantly now. His master seemed not to mind, though, which was gracious, since otherwise it would have earned the slave more punishment. Yet obviously it was enough for him that the Elf at least managed to suppress his screams.  
  
Finally, the fingers were withdrawn. Aragorn stepped back from his quivering victim and went back to the bed. He took the big new _taer cant aniron(1)_ and stepped back and around in front of his slave so his victim could see what he was holding.  
  
"Now," he said, "I will fill you with this pleasure staff and have you suffer wearing it while I continue to work on you. Only later, when I sheathe myself in you at last, I will take it out again. This will be your second punishment tonight. Do you agree that you deserve it?"  
  
Legolas shivered. He stared in terror at the staff. He had no idea how it could ever fit within him. He gave his tormentor before him a hurt and betrayed look, nearly incredulous. He gathered his strength, trying to give the expected answer so he would not be punished even more, yet he could hardly manage to speak.  
  
"Answer!" Aragorn bellowed. "Do you agree that you deserve this? Answer or you'll feel the paddle again before the staff fills you!" His voice was sharp and stinging.  
  
Legolas swallowed again.  
  
"I.." he began hoarsely, then he finally managed to get out: "I deserve the punishment you wish to give me, master. I..."  
  
He could not continue. He could not say it! _'Please, Estel, no...'_ flickered through his mind, but Estel as he knew him was not there.  
  
"Do you thank me for it?" Aragorn asked. "Do you beg me to be graced with it, now?"  
  
Legolas stared at him in terror. He could not. He simply couldn't. He could not bring himself to beg for this new torture. The staff was just too thick, and coated with the burning irritant... he could not do it! He trembled, tossing his head helplessly, mute in fear.  
  
Aragorn slapped him hard into the face, twice.  
  
"Beg for it!" he commanded. "Ask me to give you this just punishment, and thank me for my judgment, _or I will whip your feet!_ "  
  
This threat made Legolas find his voice again. Walking a full day tomorrow on hurting, swollen feet sore from a thorough whipping? He could not afford this.  
  
Hoarsely and with great effort he managed to get out: "Thank you, master, for this just and thorough punishment. I'll.. I'll beg you to be graced with it, now."  
  
His voice died in a muffled sob. Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks, and he fought to keep from sobbing more loudly.  
  
Aragorn nodded gravely. "And so you shall," he said solemnly. "Try to keep silent through this, or I will have to gag you. And brace yourself, because this will _hurt._ "  
  
And with that he stepped back behind his slave, coated the staff with a mixture of irritant and normal oil, and started to insert it. He could not push it inside all at once; the thing was just too thick, nearly twice the size of an erect male member like his own, and he could not risk tearing the flesh since there was simply no time for Legolas to heal before tomorrow.  
  
So he worked slowly and carefully, bit by bit, giving the tormented passage the time it needed to adjust and slowly moving the hideously thick pleasure staff in and out again, using a generous amount of oil together with the irritant. Although he had stretched the passage wide with his fingers already before he even started it took him some time until he could finally get the staff completely in. When he was done he used some long leather straps to fix it in its place, tying the straps around both of his slave's thighs and his stomach.  
  
  
Legolas could not keep silent anymore. He screamed as the thick pleasure staff entered him and stretched his passage wide, and again as it was worked deeper. Finally he stopped screaming, simply because he had not enough air. He had a hard time breathing under the incredible pain and was nearly choking.  
  
He did not bother to try and suppress his mutterings of pain again; it was too late, he had earned the threatened new punishment anyway, and he could simply not hold himself back anymore. His mind was in a haze and he was only half-conscious now. He had no idea what was really happening around him anymore, he was just aware of his tormentor's grip and of the anguish of his hurting passage. Whimpering and sobbing, he trembled under his tormentor's touch and tried helplessly to get away, without success or hope.  
  
He was barely aware of his master coming back to stand in front of him again.  
  
"You did well, Little Leaf," Aragorn said. Darkly and coldly he continued: "However, you defied my orders again and screamed. So as I told you before, I will have to let you taste the paddle again. And since you seem incapable of keeping quiet, I am going to gag you now before I continue to work on you. We do not wish to scare the house with all the noise you make! Although later this night I may find another way to muffle your noise and to make good use of your sweet mouth!"  
  
He walked to the bed, selected a gag and went back to his slave. "Open up!" he commanded harshly.  
  
Sobbing, barely aware of his surroundings anymore, the slave obeyed. Yet instead of the gag, first he found his mouth caught in a searing kiss, and entered by a demanding and exploring tongue. Aragorn tasted him thoroughly, then he let him go and brought his mouth directly to his ear.  
  
"Shhh, bear with me," he whispered barely audibly, "just a bit more! It won't be long now!" He was not sure if Legolas really understood his words; the slave did not react and did not cease his soft, helpless whimper. At least, the whimpering was enough to cover his quiet reassurance from any ears outside the windows that might listen.  
  
He let go of his victim and stepped back. "Now! Open up," he repeated his command. "I have not the whole night to wait for you!"  
  
Obediently, the slave opened his mouth, and he inserted the gag and fixed it behind his victim's head. The soft whimper ceased. Aragorn gave a satisfied nod.  
  
"Now I can work on you in peace," he said darkly and grimly, "and it is a good thing, too, because I have much more in store for you, tonight! First you will taste the paddle again, then I'll do your nipples, as promised; then I might like to try some needles and a bit of candle wax. In any case, this night is far from over, so I suggest you brace yourself!"  
  
He walked back to the bed and fetched the paddle again. Slipping back behind the slave, he said dangerously: "I promised you three more blows with the paddle if you screamed. I'll start with them! Of course, I can't apply them to your ass, since now you are filled with the pleasure staff. So I'll do your thighs instead. And since there are two of those, I'll make this four. Too bad you cannot count anymore, now!"  
  
And he let the first blow fall, then the second. The slave jerked desperately and gave a muffled sob, but there wasn't much to hear due to the gag. The third and fourth blow elicited a similar reaction.  
  
In the quiet, muffled noise, Aragorn could hear barely audibly steps from outside the windows, moving away. He listened intently, poised for a trap. But there wasn't any other noise; and while he could not be entirely sure, his acute and honed instincts told him that now, finally, they were alone. All listeners were gone.  
  
He threw the paddle away and stood in front of his slave again. Carefully he reached around the suspended body and hugged his tortured victim close, nuzzling his chest, then tiptoed to kiss the tear-streaked face.  
  
"You did well, Little Leaf," he said quietly, "You have been very brave! I am very proud of you! Don't worry, they are gone, we can go much slower now. There is not that much left for you to bear tonight, the worst is over. Be brave for me a short while more, only a bit. I promise you can bear this!"  
  
While he spoke, he carefully caressed the sweating, trembling body under his hands, stroked the sides, the chest, caressed and teased the nipples, then tiptoed again to kiss the lips of the gagged mouth. The gag he had selected earlier was one Legolas knew and was usually even comfortable with, a small one that did not hamper breathing and that they used quite often when there was need to keep discreet on their travels. It left the lips slightly open, yet accessible, and he used this fact to lick over them, then close his own mouth carefully over the gagged one of his slave.  
  
Then he moved slowly down to lick along his slave's neck, down his chest, finally to kiss and caress his nipples.  
  
Finally he stepped back but did not yet let the sides of his slave's body go.  
  
Hoarsely he whispered: "There are a few more things I wish to do to you tonight. But it is nothing that you cannot bear. I know that you can do this! Trust me, Little Leaf, I will be more gentle with you from now on!"  
  
He did not really knew if Legolas still heard him. The slave seemed nearly unconscious and in a kind of stupor. But he knew that he could not stop now, since he had voiced what he would do before, and he knew also that he was giddy with desire to do it. He was rock-hard by now, sweating with desire, and the muffled noises of pain of his victim, the quivering skin under his hands, the feeble, involuntary jerks and helpless attempts to flinch away from his touch, were intoxicating like the most potent drug.  
  
It was not nearly as good as he had dreamed this night would be in the long weeks before, lonely in the wilderness; given a choice he would have gone much slower, and the harsh treatment had brought his slave far too close to losing consciousness already for his taste. But still he was burning with arousal and captured and exhilarated by every reaction, every little muffled whimper of his victim. His trousers were uncomfortably tight, and he could feel himself already leaking.  
  
He raised his hands to the sweat-stricken face of his slave again and trailed with his fingers over the pointed ears in a tender caress, then he went back to the bed and selected ten of the long, slim needles and two of the nipple clamps. He did not choose the new ones Elrond had gifted them with recently, with the sharp, cruel teeth meant to injure, but the older and well worn ones with dull teeth that stung, but did not cause injury, and that he used quite often. Originally he had intended to use them together with the small, yet heavy weights made for this purpose, but he left those aside. He knew Legolas could not bear much more pain, and he had to be careful now not to go too far over the limit.  
  
This was a kind of torture they had done before, though, and Legolas was used to it. Aragorn was sure he could take it, especially if it was done carefully and not too intensely.  
  
Slowly, he went back to his suspended victim and stepped in front of him. He caressed and teased the nipples a bit more, then he very carefully closed the clamps first over the one, then the other.  
  
His slave gave a small jerk, but otherwise did not react much. Aragorn closed his mouth over first one, then the other of the clamped tits and licked and teased them with his tongue. While he did that, he took one of the long needles and found a yet unmarred spot at the side of his slave. Pinching the skin a bit to have better access, he pierced the needle carefully through it, mindful not to pierce the flesh beneath the skin. Legolas whimpered a bit under the gag, yet did not even quiver harder. Carefully and slowly, Aragorn applied the other needles in the same way, five on each side.  
  
Done, he ran his hands reverently over them and felt his victim tremble.  
  
 _"Beautiful,"_ he whispered in awe. "You are so beautiful like this, _melethron_. I can not tell you what it does to me to see you so. I am _hungry_ for you, I cannot get enough of you... bear with me, just a bit more! I will release you soon. There are just two more things I wish to do to you before I taste your mouth again and fill you with my essence.... Just two more, my beautiful Little Leaf. You can do this, _melethron_ , be brave for me!"  
  
He licked over the hurting, clamped nipples again, then moved to the pierced skin of his slave's sides to lick the small trickle of blood from them. When his head came up again, he took the face of his victim into his hands and looked at him, carefully judging his state.  
  
"I'll do your nipples now," he explained breathlessly, "Don't worry, it's only five blows to each. They won't be harsh!"  
  
He tiptoed and placed a soft kiss to the gagged mouth again. "Be brave for me!"  
  
With that, he went back to the trunk and fetched another paddle, this one pliant and slender and made of leather. He placed himself a bit to the side of his slave and delivered the first blow to the left clamped nipple, not very forceful but nevertheless stinging.  
  
They had done this kind of torture before; Legolas was used to it since it was one of Estel's favorites. Of course, normally, when his master subjected him to this, he was not already drowned in pain as he was now. When the first blow fell, Legolas hardly jerked anymore, nor did he react to the following four. He also hardly reacted to the torment of the other tit. It was too much. He could hardly separate one source of pain from another anymore, and was caught in a fog of suffering, barely aware of anything other than his world of anguish.  
  
Dimly, he could still hear his master's voice, his soothing tone, and while he hardly understood the words, this voice was all that still anchored him to consciousness.  
  
Estel was there and wanted him to stay and bear with him; he wanted him to stay awake, so he tried to do it.  
  
  
Aragorn watched him intently. He was very aware that his slave was at the very brink of what he could take, and was still clinging to consciousness only because he himself had ordered him to. It was exhilarating and nearly made him come on the spot. Yet there was more to come, and he wanted to spill himself in his slave's mouth, only a bit later, not now in his own trousers; so he took deep breaths and calmed himself down a bit. Even so, he could hardly wait anymore. But there were still a few things left to complete his plans.  
  
Throwing the leather paddle away, he stroked and teased tenderly over the hurting, tormented nipples. Then he moved his hands up a bit and gathered the golden tresses of his slave within them.  
  
Legolas' hair was not braided this night, and hung loosely down his chest, where Aragorn himself had placed it earlier to leave the slave's back bare for the whip. Now, he tucked the long, golden tresses carefully out of the way, over the shoulders of his slave and threaded them below the yoke to his victims back. Then he tiptoed again and placed another kiss to the gagged mouth.  
  
"Time to get the candle!" he said. "Don't worry, _melethron_. I won't burn you with the flame tonight. It's just a little hot wax to adorn you!"  
  
Giving the face of his slave a last caress, he let him go and went to fetch one of the big candles. Coming back, he caressed the pierced sides of his slave, then the chest and at last the clamped nipples with his free hand. Softly and reverently he murmured: "I had planned to do your groin with the wax, too, tonight, to coat you nicely so I could then lick you and soothe you with my tongue. But I won't do that now; you are too weak already. We'll save that for another time."  
  
Idly toying with one of the hurting, clamped nipples, he continued: "So it's just your nipples I will do tonight, and perhaps a bit more of your skin. I love it when you wear these little pearls of cooled wax for me! They look like jewels on your skin, adorning you for me to admire and relish."  
  
And with that he raised the candle and let the first drops of the hot, stinging wax fall on the unprotected, already hurting tits.  
  
Legolas jerked and tossed a bit as the first hot, burning drops fell on his sensitive tits, searing and stinging, causing lingering pain. He whimpered again, his soft sounds muffled by the gag. The new pain stung and burned, and he shivered again and tossed his head a bit, yet he was too dazed and too deeply caught within his world of anguish already to try to get away or struggle against his bonds. He was only semi-conscious now; he did not care much what was done to him anymore, and merely endured each new touch and hurt as it was given. The soft murmuring voice of his master was the only thing that anchored him and kept him from falling into unconsciousness or from losing himself.  
  
A soft, cool mouth closed over his tormented tit, clamps, burns and all. Silken lips and a soft, wet tongue licked over the hurting flesh, soothing and cooling; then teeth gently bit down on the clamp, increasing the pressure and he jerked again. A callused hand at his hurting back held him in place, then the pressure lessened again and the hand at his back petted him tenderly.  
  
"Just a bit more, Little Leaf," the voice of his master said, "just a few drops more. It won't be long now!"  
  
The procedure was repeated with the other tit, then a few more drops fell to the first again, until both his nipples were stinging and completely coated with the hot, searing wax. Then there were more drops falling to his breast, and finally the candle moved to his sides and more drops of hot wax were applied to the small wounds in his skin made by the piercing needles. He whimpered at the stinging sensation, at the heat of the flame uncomfortably close to his vulnerable skin, touching a few times but never long enough to really burn him. It was a small ache, compared to the white hot burning of his hurting ass, his thighs and most of all, his passage, yet ache it was, and he trembled under his tormentor's touches.  
  
Finally Aragorn set the candle away and came back to soothe all the places he had coated with the hot wax with his tongue again. He sucked and licked at the aggravated nipples, yet did not nibble at them anymore. One of his hands dropped to the limp Elfhood of his slave and fondled gently, yet could not make it stir.  
Small wonder; Legolas was in far too much pain to get aroused. Still, he regretted that he had not more time to try it; normally, he would have relished trying to stimulate the limp member of his Elf at this point and see if he could not provoke a reaction in spite of the great level of pain.  
  
But he could not do that now. It was time to put an end to this night of torment; It was close to midnight now, and there were not that many hours left until morning. And Legolas needed every single one of them to rest and heal.  
  
Sighing, he let go of the limp member and reached up to the restraints that held his slave suspended. He stepped directly under him and held him close with one arm while his other hand fumbled to open one of the restraints; then, catching the falling body gently and placing the freed arm over his shoulder, he repeated the procedure with the other restraint. He caught Legolas' limp, unresisting body in his arms and carried him a bit away from the yoke, then he set him gently down on the ground. Legolas' knees gave in, and he had to catch his Elf again.  
Carefully, he lowered him until he was kneeling and held him upright in this position, taking his arms and placing them firmly on his own hips. He made it clear through his very movements that he wanted his slave to keep them there.  
  
"Shh," he told his semi-conscious slave, "don't let go! Hold on a little more. Kneel for me, Little Leaf. Stay upright and kneel for me!"  
  
Somehow, his voice and his command seemed to reach the slave's muddled mind, because he stayed obediently upright, clutching himself to his master's hips and using the belt on Aragorn's hips as leverage. Aragorn buried his own hands within the golden tresses of his slave, bowed down and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.  
  
"I'm going to ungag you now, Little Leaf," he said, "for I wish to use your mouth to take my pleasure. You will serve me well with your sweet tongue, will you not?"  
  
Quickly he undid the gag, removed it from his slave's mouth and threw it away. Freed, Legolas gave a soft, desolate, nearly inaudible sobbing. Aragorn breathed hard. The soft sound nearly drove him mad. Hastily, he freed his rock-hard erection. His cock was so hard it hurt. Forcing himself to refrain from thrusting mindlessly, he shoved it gently, but firmly into his slave's mouth, holding the Elf's head in place with his other hand firmly buried in Legolas' hair.  
  
"Now, Little Leaf," he growled breathlessly, "lick it! Suck! Let me feel your sweet, talented tongue!"  
  
The wet, hot cavern closed around him like a sheath, the great amount of spit caused by the gag working as lubrication, and he had to harshly restrain himself from thrusting recklessly so as not to cut off his slave's air and suffocate him. Even so, having him like this, on his knees, quivering in pain and hardly aware of anything but his own anguish anymore, but still obediently opening up to take his master's eager cock into his mouth -- it was intoxicating and pure bliss!  
  
Aragorn gasped as the hot mouth closed around him. For a moment his slave did not seem to understand what was expected of him. Then training ingrained in eighty years of enforced sexual service to different masters kicked in, and Legolas' tongue began to swirl and lick around the invading cock, cheeks closing in a sucking motion, and Aragorn gasped again, then nearly shouted in pleasure. Slowly at first, then ever faster, he began to thrust into the welcoming cavern, mindful not to abandon every restraint, yet hardly capable of holding himself back any longer.  
  
Originally, he had planed to take his slave's mouth while Legolas was still tied to the yoke, forcing his victim to struggle to stay upright while he pleasured him. But Legolas was already too weak for that, and even so it was completely exhilarating. Never before had he taken his Elf to this level of pain, and while he originally had not planned to do it _that_ way, but to give his victim plenty of time to adjust and hold and soothe him through the worst of it, he had _dreamed_ of getting him to this point for years. Some part of him now wished to make it last, to hold his victim in this state of anguish and torment as long as he could, yet he could not do that now. Legolas did not have a week or two to recover from this. So he simply savored the moment as it was, and thrust with harshly controlled eagerness into the willing mouth.  
  
It took a lot of discipline to keep from just rutting away with abandon, but somehow he managed. Even so, it took just a few thrusts for him to come, and he climaxed, spilling himself in his slave's mouth, shouting his name.  
Gasping, clutching the shoulders of his kneeling partner for support, he had trouble to keep himself upright. He could feel Legolas swallow the cum as he was trained to do and carefully withdrew himself. He sank down to his knees before his Elf and took Legolas face into his hands. Taking his partners mouth in a deep kiss, he tasted his own essence.  
  
Then he gathered the limp, unresisting body in his arms and kissed a pointed ear.  
  
"You have done well, _melethron_ ," he crooned, "you have been marvelous! Don't worry, it is done. Your punishment is over! Just let me get my breath back for a moment, then I'll take that _taer cant(2)_ out of you and fill you with some soothing balm, before I sheathe myself in you a second time. Then you may rest and heal!"  
  
While he spoke, his hands were already working, taking off the clamps, then the needles, and setting them away. He would collect them later. Then he loosened the straps that held the pleasure staff in place and undid them. Carefully, he started to work the big thing out again. The Elf in his arms jerked as the tucks and pulls at the staff impaling him aggravated his overstretched, inflamed passage all anew, but his movements were feeble. Carefully, Aragorn worked the big thing out, murmuring soothing words and holding the trembling body tightly. Finally he had it out and set the thing aside. Petting the slaves back and head, he let him rest a moment, before he leaned forward and untied first one ankle, then the other from the long wooden staff that held Legolas' legs apart. Finally, he carefully gathered his stricken Elf within his arms, stood up and carried him over to the broad bed. He laid him down on his stomach at the side not occupied by the instruments of torture he had laid out early in the evening ready to use, or thrown back after usage, and took up another vial. Swiftly, he uncorked it and coated his fingers, and then he worked the soothing balm deeply into his slave's inflamed passage.  
  
The slave jerked and whimpered at the new intrusion, but soon the calming effect of the balm soothed the burning flesh, and the pain receded a bit. Legolas breathing eased somewhat, yet he was too far gone already to stop whimpering immediately. His body took some time to react, or process the things happening to him, by now.  
  
Aragorn worked quickly, yet thoroughly. He had to do that first; the balm would take some time to neutralize the last traces of the irritant, and he had no wish to hurt himself when he buried his cock within his Elf later this night. Done, he withdrew his hand and gently petted the hurting back. "Now just wait here for me; I'll be only a moment," he said. "I'll just tidy up a bit, then I'll join you again."  
  
Pulling out the big, hideous pleasure staff as well as massaging the hurting passage of his victim had renewed his arousal, and feeling the limp, pliant body under his hands, too deeply caught in the inflicted pain to even move or try to escape further torment, hearing the helpless whimpering, seeing the feeble movements, the haze of anguish of his slave had him already hardening again.  
  
Now he worked quickly, gathering the paddles, the whip and the irritant as well as the unused toys from the bed and depositing them unceremoniously back into the trunk, untying the rope from the ring in the wall, unwinding it and lowering the heavy yoke to the ground, separating the rope from the yoke again and placing both back into the trunk, together with the wooden staff and all the leather straps. The other toys he had used on his slave tonight, the pleasure staff, clamps and needles, he deposited in a waiting bucket filled with a bit of water and placed both in front of the door. Let Elrond's servants deal with those and tell the master of the house exactly what they found! Hopefully, it would spare Elrond the trouble to ask questions in the morning.  
  
Finally, he was done. He bolted the door again, then snuffed all the candles save the one on the night stand, opened the windows and the shutters to let fresh air in, and closed the drapes. The whole procedure had taken only a few minutes.  
  
Only now he undressed himself and went back to the bed again. He planned to savor the pliant body of his slave one more time tonight!  
  
Legolas was still only semi-conscious, drifting, barely aware and caught in a deep fog of pain, albeit he was breathing somewhat easier now. Yet Aragorn could still hear a few whimpers and sobs. Aragorn got down on the bed and crawled close to his slave. Kneeling beside the prostrate body, he bent down to kiss the whipped shoulder blades, then he tucked the hair away and licked over the ears.  
  
"Now, my beautiful little Leaf, I'll have you one more time this night," he growled hoarsely. "I can hardly wait to sheathe myself in you while you are in this state. Of course, it will hurt! But you will feel wonderful quivering all around me!"  
  
And he began slowly to caress the tormented body, stroking over the beaten ass, the thighs, then up the back. He knew that each of his caresses had to hurt immensely at this point, that each touch brought new pain, that burying himself in the aggravated passages would be nearly unbearable for his slave, yet all this only heightened his arousal all again and made him hard and needy. He felt his victim start to react to this new torment, felt his renewed trembling, the feeble jerks and doomed attempts to escape his touches, heard his increasing whimpers.  
  
Nearly driven mad with desire by his victim's reactions, he took the Elf by his shoulders and pulled him up, forcing him back into a kneeling position. Then he leaned the pliant body against himself and sneaked his arms around him, pressing the hurting back against his chest.  
  
  
Legolas gasped. He did not really realize what was happening and where he was anymore, that he was still in the chambers of his master and that it was _Aragorn_ who held him; he only understood that there was a new torment to endure. His inflamed, aching buttocks were pressed against his tormentor's groin and stomach, the _Adan's_ erection scraping against his hurting thighs. Instinctively he tried to jerk forward, but was held back by a harsh grip.  
  
"Be still!" a voice commanded – he was hardly aware whose voice it was anymore, but assumed it was one of his masters - "Feel this and open up for me!"  
  
Obediently, he tried to keep still, yet could not help trembling. His thighs were forced apart and pressed down on hard muscled legs, and he could not suppress another sob as his beaten, hurting flesh had to bear his weight. He whimpered anew and gave a small yelp. A harsh, callused hand closed over his mouth, and his master's voice growled into his ear: _"Hush! Be silent! Don't force me to gag you again!"_  
  
The hand was removed and made its way down to his chest. Two hands closed over his muscled breast and held him in place; then a hot column of male flesh entered him in one, fast thrust, and his tormented buttocks were driven back against hard hips. White-hot pain exploded in his brain all over again, and he bit back a scream.  
  
 _Estel, it had been Estel's voice he'd heard_. Estel had ordered him to keep silent. He didn't know why it was important to his master that he did not scream, why Estel did not want him to voice his pain, but Estel wanted it from him, so he tried.  
  
He could not help continuing his soft sobbing, though.  
  
Callused hands closed over his tormented nipples, caressing them; then the intruder in his ass began to move and he was taken to a whole new level of pain again.  
  
He had lost all sense of time and all true awareness of his surroundings. It seemed to him this new torment lasted for hours. In truth it took only minutes, but he did not knew that. The thrusts went on and on, hitting his gland, but he was too caught in anguish to feel arousal at the stimulation. The pain was excruciating, and he tried to escape, to flee his body, to tear himself away from this hurting shell and perhaps leave it for good.  
  
Yet as he already thought that he left it behind, closing himself off and losing feelings, there was a blue, cold light that blocked his path and caught him like a moth caught by the flame. A harsh and cruel voice chanted freezing words, and he could not go further. He was driven back, back to his hurting _hroa(3)_ , and found himself aware of his body again, and the thrusting continued.  
  
In his anguish, he shouted to the one person he trusted to protect him, to keep him safe, to hold him when it got too bad: _"Estel! Please..."_  
  
Then, suddenly, the thrusting stopped and he was filled with warm fluid; the pressure in his passage lessened, and he heard his master's – Estel's – voice shouting his name. _"Legolas!"_  
  
He gasped and let himself fall back, and was caught in strong, well known arms.  
"Legolas," Aragorn crooned into his ear, "Legolas! Oh, my beautiful, marvelous, wonderful, exquisite slave!"  
  
It was too much. He could not understand the words, or what was happening. He could just understand the tone, and the voice, and it was excited. It told him one thing: Aragorn was pleased. Estel was content with him.  
  
Gasping, yet reassured by this knowledge, Legolas' muddled mind finally gave in to the demands of his exhausted body and lost its grip on his consciousness.  
  
  
Aragorn felt the body in his arms go limp and quickly checked his gaze. He discovered his Elf had finally lost consciousness and sighed. He was hardly surprised, and in truth he had expected it much sooner. At least Legolas had managed to stay conscious for him until his master reached completion, and that was a marvel in itself. He felt overwhelmed by gratitude and a fierce possessiveness of his wonder of a slave.  
  
Placing a tender kiss on the golden head he quietly whispered: "Wonderful Little Leaf! You have been so very brave for me tonight! I am so proud to have you!"  
  
He was very aware that Legolas could not hear him and had briefly escaped his hurting body and his anguish. Collapsing, he let them both sink down on the mattress, draping himself over the prostrate, limp body under him, still joined. He felt an overwhelming urge to just stay there, give in to exhaustion and fall asleep, and for a moment he indulged. But Legolas would not heal enough by morning if he did not see to his injuries first, and there were a few more things to do before he could himself allow to give in to sleep.  
  
So finally he forced himself to withdraw from the warm body still sheathing him and heaved himself up. He made it to the washstand, filled the bowl with a bit of water from the pitcher and brought it over to the bed. Then he took a clean cloth, dampened it and started to wash his slave carefully and thoroughly, taking special care to clean the places that bore the marks of his whip, the angry buttocks, the sticky cleft, the thighs and finally, turning the limp body around, the chest and the aggravated nipples. He even washed the sweaty, tear-streaked face. Finally done, he brought the bowl back to the washstand and washed himself before he emptied the water into the waiting bucket.  
  
Then he went back to the bed, used the chamber-pot, and sat beside his victim. He took a vial with a healing balm from the nightstand and applied the substance carefully first to the nipples of his slave and to his sides, then he turned the Elf back to his stomach and worked it into the whip marks on his back, thighs and buttocks.  
  
He did not bother to renew the soothing balm in Legolas' anus again, though. There was no substance with more potency of healing to a slave under the spell than the seed of his master, and he had just spilled himself within his Elf. His living essence was all that Legolas' body needed to speed up the healing. He would apply some of the soothing balm again in the morning.  
  
Finally done, he set the vial aside, snuffed the last candle and collapsed into bed beside his Elf. Carefully, he nestled the limp body into his arms. He had taken him through a lot of pain tonight, more than ever before; but at least his Elf had survived, was still alive and breathing, and would stay so. From _this_ he could recover. He would stay with him.  
  
 _ **They had done it.**_  
  
  
With this reassuring thought, he finally gave in to his complete exhaustion and drifted into sleep.  
  
  
_________________ o _______________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _taer cant aniron -- Sindarin_ , literally: straight shape (of) desire – a pleasure staff or Dildo. (I know, Tolkien would have been horrified!)  
  
(2) _taer cant – Sindarin_ : straight shape, short for _taer cant aniron_ , straight shape of desire  
  
(3) _hroa_ is the Elvish word for body, the shell of the _fea_ , the soul. Actually, both words are Quenya; I could not find the Sindarin equivalents.  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --


	15. The Morning After

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.  
All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Implied torture (of the night before).  
 _Please heed the warnings!  
_  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
______________________________________________  
  
  
 **XIII. The Morning After**  
  
  
Aragorn awoke early to the pliant body of his Elf nestled into his arms. Soft half-light filtered in from the open windows; it was just before dawn. Aragorn groaned. Last night's exertions had left him with far too little sleep. _Again_. And Legolas ...  
  
Aragorn contemplated the sleeping Elf in his arms for a moment. He looked pale, even given the scarce light, his face was troubled, and his eyes were closed. It would have concerned Aragorn had he not known it for a healing sleep. After the harsh treatment he had put him through last night, Legolas direly needed it. Aragorn bit his lips. Normally, he would have gone much slower through that night's activities, and possibly not that far, and afterwards he would have given his slave at least a few days of rest to recover from something like this.  
  
Unfortunately, time was a luxury they didn't have.  
  
Carefully he disentangled himself, then, with regret, he endeavored to wake his healing lover.  
  
Legolas woke to gentle kisses placed on his shoulder and a soft caress of his face and ears. He sighed and leaned himself back into the body of his master, then yelped in dismay as his sore, bruised back and his still swollen rear sent painful signals of protest through his whole body. His back hurt, as did his ass and thighs, not to mention his still sore and hurting passage.  
  
He stiffened as last night's memory came crashing back into his waking mind. Aragorn held him fast until the pain subsided a bit, finding a spot at his arms where his body had miraculously not tasted the whip. Then he carefully settled him back into the pillows and kissed him on both cheeks.  
  
"Good morning," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I have to wake you this soon, but we have to get up. The fellowship will start early. How fares your back?"  
  
Legolas turned around to him, ignoring his protesting and hurting back, and gave him an incredulous look. How did his master supposed he fared after all he had forced him through last night? But then he subsided. There was no point in risking even harsher punishment.  
  
Keeping his tone carefully submissive and lowering his lashes he admitted: "Your punishment was just and thorough, master. It still hurts."  
  
Aragorn just nodded.  
  
"That was to be expected," he said. "Let me see what I can do about it. After all, we need you able to walk today."  
  
With that he let go of the body of his slave and got up. He went to rummage through the nightstand. Legolas watched him with tense anticipation and sighed in relief when his master returned with a vial he recognized as a soothing substance that could be applied to the most private parts of the body.  
  
"On your stomach!" Aragorn commanded. "Try to relax!"  
  
Legolas obeyed. He hissed as Aragorn's cool finger touched and entered his swollen entrance. The gentle exploring hurt at first and sent bolts of pain all through his body, but soon the soothing oil did its work and the pain subsided. Aragorn kissed the red, bruised cheeks of Legolas' ass, right on top of the angry welts left by his own whipping.  
  
"I will apply this to you twice a day for the next three days," he promised. "It should soon get better. And we will take a generous amount of it with us during this journey, just in case. I might be forced to use it on you more often."  
  
Legolas shuddered. "Thank you, master," he said, then he added very hesitantly: "You... you wish to take the ... the new _taer carag aniron(1)_ with us, then?"  
  
His voice shook with barely-controlled fear. He shuddered as he remembered last night's main element of punishment. Everything in his body and mind screamed: _'Valar, no!!!'_ \- but he did not dare to speak his protest aloud.  
  
Aragorn seemed changed. There was a dark side to his master, shown to him last night, that he had not seen this plainly ever before, and it had thoroughly scared him.  
  
Aragorn hesitated. "You hate it," he said a bit regretfully.  
  
Legolas drew a sharp breath. He hissed as the exploring finger of his master entered him again with more of the salve, touched his sweet spot and began methodically to rub the soothing substance into it, sending currents of pleasure through him and to his groin. His breath quickened and he felt himself stir with interest. Still he was incredulous. What did Aragorn expect after yesterday's treatment, that he would like that instrument of torture? And did his master think that if he now took him in the morning with his fingers he would feel better about the pain he'd put him through with that hideous thing last night? It was hard to concentrate under Aragorn's ministrations. Still, he knew his master expected an answer.  
  
He searched his brain for a reply that would not sound too bitter and would not earn him more harm, but found none. He could not lie; Aragorn expected a truthful answer, and after sixty years he knew him far too well to get away with any kind of deception.  
  
He settled for the truth.  
  
"I am sorry, master," he finally said. "It is very big. I am afraid I do not like it much." He swallowed, voice hoarse and tensing up in fear of another beating, or worse.  
  
Aragorn stopped his application of the salve and withdrew his finger. He cleansed it with a cloth, then he went over to the nightstand again and returned with another vial.  
  
He placed a gentle kiss on Legolas' shoulder.  
  
"I was afraid you would hate it," he admitted. "Actually I regret I used it on you this first time to punish you the way I did last night. I had hoped given more time you might get used to it, maybe even come to like it."  
  
Legolas nearly jerked around to him but was stopped by a firm yet gentle pressure to his shoulders. Regretfully Aragorn said: "I know, _melethron_ , it was a stupid thought. I know my needs are hard on you, though you are bound by duty to serve me and accept all that is given. Yet it would be _much_ easier for you to bear if you could but learn to enjoy it more!"  
  
He coated his hands with the new salve and started to apply it to Legolas' hurting shoulders, thighs and backside. Still regretfully he added: " _ **I**_ like this new toy. And all tied up and filled with it you look simply exciting."  
  
Legolas shuddered. The soothing salve brought relief to his sore back and his master's touch, while he applied the substance, was light and gentle. But his words were actually painful all themselves in their plain and thoughtless cruelty. He could not believe that this was Aragorn, _his Estel_ , who was talking to him like that.  
  
Still, Aragorn expected a truthful answer.  
  
Swallowing hard, Legolas replied: "I... am sorry, master. If it pleases you I may learn to adjust to it. But I am afraid it can't be used without injury. And it _hurts_."  
  
Aragorn placed another kiss on the shoulder of his slave.  
  
"It is _supposed_ to hurt," he reminded mildly, "and used without the irritant, with time, the pain would soon recede. Besides, I have taken you with my hand before without injuring you, and this toy is not as big."  
  
He felt Legolas tense under his hands and shook his head. "But do not fear. The thing will remain here. We will have no chance to use it on this journey anyway." He sighed and concentrated again on applying the balm to his slave's bruised back and his sore and welted hips, thighs and the still angrily blue-red buttocks.  
  
He bit his lips. Last night's beating had been thorough. It would take nearly a week for the welts and bruises to fade completely, he supposed. He had not really realized how far he had gone at the time.... But at least, this way Elrond could not complain he'd been too gentle. He would let Legolas go. They would both get away from here. And it _had_ been exciting...  
  
Swallowing his slight discomfort, Aragorn took another portion of the salve and took special care to rub it into the angry red welts on the Elf's shoulder blades. Legolas hissed again, then bit his lips. He did not know if he was allowed to show his pain.  
  
Aragorn concentrated on his work, then he stood up with a satisfied nod.  
  
"There you go," he said. "That should be enough to enable you to travel today. It will still hurt, of course, as was intended as part of your punishment. But it should be not so bad that it would hamper you, not even if we have to fight. And the good thing is, I will not have to do a lot to get you ready for me for the next few nights."  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. His stomach churned and he brought it harshly under his control. What did Estel think he was doing? He had been harsh on him before, had even put him through thorough torment before, but _like this?!_  
  
He dared not give any but the expected answer. "Thank you, master. You are generous."  
  
Then he got carefully up and went to the wash stand. Aragorn meanwhile packed his two vials into his medicine pack. Laying out his clothes and weapons, he waited until Legolas was done, then took his place and started to wash himself.  
  
While Legolas dressed and started to prepare his pack, Aragorn continued:  
  
"Don't forget to pack the necessary toys. We will have to be discreet and use simple means during the next few months, but we will definitely need them. We will take the irritant, of course, since it is one of the most discreet ways I can use to get you ready for me. Some of the needles, too, and a few clamps. And pick a pleasure-staff. Maybe the small metal one; you are used to it and even seem to like it, though it weighs a lot. And choose one of the gags. You can choose one you are comfortable with; I deem we shall need it quite often."  
  
Legolas suppressed a gasp. He shuddered again. _So Aragorn expected him to choose, pack and carry the instruments of his own torture?!_ Of course the order made good sense: Aragorn would need to make his slave suffer to get aroused enough to take him, and he would have to do it in the most secretive way. Aragorn could not get erect for him and could not take him if he could not hurt him first, and if he could not take him, Legolas would die. It was that simple. Still... to make him carry the very items of torture his master wished to use on him...  
  
Shivering, but without any comment, he obediently stepped to the hated, big trunk that held the collection of love toys Aragorn had assembled in the last sixty years, most of them quite painful for the one on whom they were used. He opened the lid and looked with disgust at the intricate instruments of pain Aragorn so loved to use on him, then he began to sort through them to find the ones his master had ordered him to select. While he sorted through the cruel toys, he felt his master step behind him.  
  
Aragorn had dressed himself as well. Now he slipped behind his slave and pulled him back against his chest and into the circle of his arms. Tucking his slave's hair out of the way he started to nibble on his neck while his hands sneaked up to the Elf's chest, found the still aggravated, slightly prominent nipples under the cloth of the tunic and started to toy with them. He felt Legolas shiver under his hands and his groin twitched, even more as the slave gasped when his still hurting back came into contact with his master's chest. Then Legolas obediently swallowed his pain and leaned back against his master as was expected of him, and Aragorn had to swallow hard in sudden arousal and desire. The slave's conscious and obedient acceptance of the hurt this closeness was causing his aggravated back was exhilarating to him like a strong, heady wine, making his head swim.  
  
Still he deemed it more important to do something against his slave's bleak mood than to indulge in some new love games that would surely just result in darkening it even more.  
  
"You know," Aragorn said while one of his hands dropped down to Legolas' groin and started to squeeze and fondle the lifeless Elfhood under the cloth of the Elf's leggings carefully, "if I am to become king of Gondor I will have made the most delicate toys of gold and mithril for you to wear. Some of those clamps, definitely, and some jeweled needles; pleasure staffs... maybe even some restraints. They would adorn you nicely!"  
  
Legolas shuddered at the thought and under his master's touches. _What was the Adan getting at? Did he plan to take him again then and there?_ Still, it was better not to provoke him. Besides, he was also intrigued by the sheer absurdity of the idea Aragorn was painting. He decided to play along.  
  
"You would empty Gondor's treasures just to torment a slave?" he asked teasingly.  
  
He was rewarded with a slightly harder squeeze into his left nipple and gasped a bit. He felt Aragorn smile against his neck as he jerked back, only to gasp again when his bruised back came into harder contact with his master's chest. Aragorn kissed his neck.  
  
"No," he said more earnestly, "but I would empty them to adorn my close counselor and royal catamite, who was entrusted to take care of my very special needs and fulfilled that duty always to my fullest satisfaction, with toys worthy of our love play."  
  
He stopped fondling his slave and closed his hands in front of Legolas' stomach, hugging him close.  
  
"My slave you are and will remain, since you are bound to me, but that won't be your official position at my court. I do not wish to establish slavery in Gondor if I ever come to be her king."  
  
He sighed. "And since there is no way to release you from me other than your death, I'll have to keep you and make the best of it for us both. Believe me that you are dear to me, _melethron_ ; I wish my needs would be less hard on you and you could enjoy them more. But it is not to be, so we will both have to live with it."  
  
Legolas hesitated. "It is my pleasure to serve you, master," he said bravely. He tensed and waited for a punishment for the obvious lie, but Aragorn just shook his head.  
  
"Liar," he chided dryly. "Yet it is a pleasant lie. I may be inclined to try and believe it."  
  
Legolas turned in his arms and placed his hands on his shoulders. He saw the well known tenderness and the familiar slight grief back in Aragorn's eyes and felt a great weight lift from his soul. This was Estel as he knew him!  
  
"Still it is my duty to serve you," he observed, "and my honor." There was no lie now in his eyes. "'Tis true that your needs are hard on me. Such is my fate. But I am honored and glad to have you as my master."  
He did not say that there were worse. He did not have to.  
  
Aragorn leaned his forehead against that of his slave, hands folded behind the small of his back. "Your words mean much to me, Little Leaf," he said, "especially after what I put you through last night. I would have been less harsh on you, and certainly I would have given you more time to adjust; but I know Elrond will check on you this morning. He will want to know I punished you thoroughly after that argument we had. And time is something we don't have right now."  
  
More fiercely he said: "But believe me, whatever happens, I will not leave you in his hands ever again. Whatever happens on this quest, I'd rather take you with me should I fall than force you back to him. And as soon as we reach Lothlorien I'll find another Elf for you to turn to should I fall or once it is my time. We'll choose one whom you like and who likes you. I will not have you die because of me! Not if I can help it!"  
  
Legolas stared at him, dumbfounded. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of being entrusted to yet another master, but even more the depth of concern and commitment Aragorn showed him touched his soul. There were reasons that he would still die for this man were it requested, in spite of everything.  
  
Slowly he said: "Lord Elrond will never allow this!"  
  
Aragorn's face was grim. _"Lord Elrond won't be there!"_ he said derisively. "And since you belong to me I can and will decide whatever I wish to do with you. And I wish to ensure your survival apart from him. Don't worry, Legolas, I will not choose another Elf without consulting you. And you won't have to go to the one we choose save in the direst need!"  
  
Legolas shuddered. Lord Elrond would rather kill him than allow that.  
  
"But, Master, Lord Glorfindel..." he began, but Aragorn shook his head.  
  
"I spoke with Glorfindel," he said. "He likes you well enough, but he does not wish to bind himself to you. Besides he is Lord Elrond's seneschal and bound to him in loyalty. He would not be capable to protecting you. Nor would Elrohir and Elladan."  
  
Legolas shuddered harder at the thought of the twins. It had been they who had once shown a young and curious Estel the ways of cruelty in sex while using slaves. Legolas recalled the lessons vividly, even after all that time, since for most of them he had been the slave in question.  
  
"But what of Lady Arwen?" he finally asked. "If you are to wed, won't you have to give me up anyway? And My Lord Elrond will never allow you to give me away to an Elf not of his choosing then."  
  
Aragorn's hands on his back gripped him harder and he flinched at the punishing squeeze that aggravated his hurting back and his sore hips. He bowed his head.  
  
"I am sorry for my disrespect, master," he murmured. "I request punishment." He waited in resignation for the punishment to be sentenced or meted out, although his stomach churned at the thought of even more or harsher pain.  
  
But the expected and feared punishment did not come. Aragorn just shook his head again, let go of his slave's hips and tipped his chin up so he could gaze into his eyes again. "I will not punish you for this," he reassured him. Then he stated firmly: "But know this: Elrond is _not_ your Lord! You are _mine_ , and as long as I live you will remain so, save I should choose differently one future day. But _if_ I come to this it will be _my_ decision and not a demand of my foster-father! He gave you to me when I reached majority, and as a _gift_. Nothing he could take back at a whim. You are mine and I will protect you from him!"  
  
Legolas eyes went wide at Aragorn's fierceness. Aragorn took his face into his hands. "Believe me, _melethron_! He will not touch you. You may be fated to endure my need to make you suffer when I lie with you, but you will be safe from him. _I swear you are!_ "  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. "Thank you, master," he said gratefully, still hesitant to believe him. Then he dared to say: "Even so, Lady Arwen..."  
  
Aragorn shook his head again. "Arwen will let me keep you," he said. "I spoke with her about this just the other night and she agreed. If I ever come to marry her I will still have you."  
  
Legolas' eyes went even wider. "She would agree to this?" he asked incredulously. "But the bond.."  
  
"Won't be disturbed," Aragorn said. "You cannot bind yourself under the spell, and I am human. I cannot bind myself the Elven way as much as I should wish. Arwen may bind herself to me, but it is not required for me to do the same to her, nor is it possible. She can allow me to keep you and still have my love."  
  
He did not tell his slave of the included bargain he had struck with his betrothed concerning this. This was not the moment. He needed to convince Legolas that he was safe. The price his slave would have to pay for safety could be told later. _Much_ later. In any case, he deemed it a small price to pay, for what difference would it make if Arwen was allowed to watch them play? It might turn out even more enjoyable for both of them. After all he certainly would be less cruel and more careful with his slave in front of his wife's eyes.  
  
Finally, Legolas swallowed his disbelief and gave a small, grateful bow. "Thank you," he said with true hope and relief, "you are most generous. It will be a honor to be allowed to continue serving you."  
  
Then he took a deep sigh and decided to dare teasing a bit.  
  
"But you know of course," he said half-seriously, "that the royal court of Gondor did not use to include the position of a royal catamite."  
  
Aragorn growled. "They haven't had a king for nine hundred years," he said. "I imagine they'll have to agree to whatever protocol I choose to force on them!"  
  
He kissed his slave who obediently opened up.  
  
When he let him up again he added: "Besides, you will undoubtedly be the most beautiful royal catamite they'll have ever seen."  
  
"I will be the _only_ royal catamite they'll have ever seen!" Legolas said dryly.  
  
Aragorn shrugged, glad that his slave's mood finally was cheering up a bit.  
  
"So what?" he asked. "I will be the only _king_ they'll have seen in a long time!"  
  
Legolas actually snorted. "But what will happen if that man of Gondor won't allow you to become his king, oh my most generous master?" he said lightly. "At yesterday's council he seemed not too eager to surrender the throne to you just yet."  
  
Aragorn mock-slapped his head and smiled at his small surprised yelp, uttered although the slap had not really hurt.  
  
"If Boromir denies me as his king," he jested, "and insists on keeping the Steward's rule, then maybe I can at least become a captain of Gondor's army again. Perchance he may give me a small garrison to command. But I still keep you!"  
  
"A garrison," Legolas mused, "with you and me and Arwen."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Arwen won't marry me if I don't become king," he said, "as you well know. So you will be just stuck with me. And you won't even have an official position at the court in this case, nor toys of mithril to adorn you, either. I am afraid I won't be able to afford them."  
  
Legolas snorted. Aragorn kissed him again. Seriously he added: "But I would still keep you and make sure to protect you as long as I live."  
  
Legolas just stared at him, too stunned to reply. Finally he managed: "What if we fail?"  
  
Aragorn's face was grim. "Then all will be lost," he said. "All will fall to darkness. Your father won't have to worry about Lord Elrond's moods any longer, but about being overrun and enslaved by Orcs. And our only hope would be that since we are the ones to undertake this Quest, we will likely be the first ones to be killed. I do not wish to imagine what waits for us if we are caught."  
  
He shuddered. _Torment for himself, a slow, horrible death for Legolas, maybe Sauron learning about the spell and how to use it or even to cast it... they were images and thoughts he refused to contemplate in depth._  
  
He sighed. "Let's hope it won't come to that," he said. He let go of his slave and took a step back.  
  
But Legolas refused to let go for another moment and held him close. "If I may ask," he hesitantly said, "what will you tell the others... about me?"  
  
Aragorn studied him, puzzled by his question. Understanding dawned.  
  
"We won't tell them about your position," he decided. "After your harsh words to Boromir at the council he regards you with small love, and harbors even less for me. He would not be pleased if he found out that he was addressed that harshly not by an Elf of equal or of higher rank, but by a mere slave."  
  
Legolas let go of him and blushed. He bowed his head. "I did not think of that! I..." he trailed off. Carefully and slowly he then said: "I ask forgiveness, master! I was mistaken. I.. request punishment if you wold grace me with it..." He choked, thinking of the outright torture he went through last night. Fearfully he awaited whatever new horrifying penance Aragorn might force him through.  
  
Aragorn surprised him by moving back to him and taking him by his shoulders again. "Nay," he said, "punishment for this has already been given. I will lay no more penance for this on you. Besides, what you said to him was only the truth, albeit it should have been said in a more diplomatic way. But we can't have him find out that you're not free, now. Nor that Dwarf!"  
  
He tipped up his slave's chin again and caressed his face. "Let them think that we are just friends and comrades. Boromir thinks you are a prince since you were presented to him as son of king Thranduil and representative of your father's realm. Let's leave it at that! And do not call me 'master' on this Quest. From now on I am just 'Aragorn' to you, or 'Estel'. Let us act as we did in my time as Thorongil in Rohan and Gondor."  
  
He kissed his Elf again. Then he said: "Of course you will still have to share my bedding. So we shall pretend that we are simply lovers as well as comrades and friends. This is not too unlikely among warriors after all. They will believe it."  
  
Legolas gave him an obedient bow and said: "As you wish, My Lord."  
  
Aragorn sighed and drew his brows together. "Estel," he corrected.  
  
His Elf answered him obediently yet with a teasing gleam in his eyes: "As you wish, My Lord Estel!"  
  
Aragorn snorted and let go of him. "Very well, _**Greenleaf,**_ " he said, deliberately speaking in Common. "Finish packing, then wait for me in the courtyard where we will depart. You may wish to take a detour to the kitchens first to pack supplies. I will follow a bit later. I have something to see to before we leave."  
  
With that he gave his Elf a last caress and turned, took his gear and weapons, shouldered his pack, and left. Legolas knew he would visit the healing wing to pack some medical supplies, and he had a strong suspicion what else the Ranger wished to see to – or rather, whom.  
  
He turned back to the open trunk and gazed with disgust and fear at its contents. _And Aragorn thought these instruments of torture would be easier to bear if they were made of mithril?!_  
  
Shuddering he selected the items Aragorn had ordered, then closed the trunk with relief. He wrapped the chosen items carefully in soft leather and cloth, then deposited them at the bottom of his quiver. The added weight would aggravate and hurt his back even more when he walked, but storing them within his pack would not bring him more relief, since he had to carry that too. And besides, stored in the pack it was more likely that the small bundle might fall into unwanted hands during their journey. He did not wish to imagine trying to explain the contents of the bundle to a curious Hobbit, or maybe even a suspicious Dwarf!  
  
Besides, Aragorn would rather like watching him struggle to bear the added weight and would be probably all eager to bed him in the evening.  
  
Legolas shuddered again and thought back to last night. How could Aragorn have changed this much? True, Aragorn had tortured him before, but never _like this_. Or did he just imagine that his master had been gentler with him in the past?  
  
Sighing, Legolas shoved the dark thoughts aside, finished packing, donned his weapons and gear, shouldered his pack and stood up. He winced as he slipped into the harness of his quiver and fastened the belts and straps to keep it at its place. The pain went through him in a wave. But then he took deep, steadying breaths and adjusted to the familiar feeling. After all this was not the first time Aragorn had amused himself by whipping him before they had to travel on; it was one of Estel's favorite games, even if he normally kept the level of inflicted hurt much lower and was mindful not to tax his slave's strength too much.  
  
He had not done that this time.  
  
Legolas gathered himself, looked around to see if he had forgotten anything, and left the room. There was no point in wishing things were different. He had learned that the hard way a long time ago.  
  
Ignoring his sore, bruised back and shoulders, he quickly went to the kitchens to pick up the supplies, then left for the courtyard.  
  
  
_________________0_________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _taer carag aniron – Sindarin_ : 'straight spike (of) desire', a pleasure staff or Dildo. (I know, Tolkien would be horrified!)


	16. A Near Escape

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.  
All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Implied torture (of the night before).  
 _Please heed the warnings!  
_  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
______________________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XIV. A Near Escape**  
  
  
Legolas was already close to the front doors when he was caught. He could already see Gandalf waiting outside with a pony – obviously the same Aragorn had told him about, the one that his master and the Hobbits had brought from Bree – when suddenly two strong and heavily armed Noldor guards blocked his path. Turning, he saw two more coming up behind him, plus a more finely clad warrior he recognized as one of Glorfindel's officers. He cast a quick look to the doors and the steps beyond. If he could just make it to the steps, or maybe yell...  
  
But he could not risk struggling, for it would only serve to give Lord Elrond's guards an excuse to slaughter him were he stood. And if he risked alerting Imladris' non-Elven guests to the enslavement of his own people, he would be punished even more. As would be his fellow hostages and his home. Erestor's warning the day before had been clear enough.  
  
He could not risk that.  
  
So he subsided and stilled his steps. He cast a last, longing look to Gandalf, willing him to turn, to look up and into the house, but the Istar didn't. Legolas swallowed and resigned himself to his fate. He had been so close... yet the courtyard could as well be on the other side of the great sea right now. He turned to the approaching officer and bowed demurely.  
  
"My Lord Narthalion(1)?" he asked, as if he were not encircled by four Noldor warriors. "How can I be of service?"  
  
The officer sneered at him. "Your presence is demanded in Lord Elrond's study, slave," he snapped. His guards came close and grabbed for Legolas as if he could try to flee any moment. Legolas avoided their hands neatly with a step forward and a little turn, and bowed again. "As you wish, My Lord," he said, "I will go there immediately."  
  
His maneuver was only half successful, however. The four guards did not seize him to drag him off, yet they did not relent their position around him either. The officer looked at him with disdain. "You will follow us!" he snapped and took off, his four guards and Legolas trailing along. They kept the slave carefully between them. Legolas swallowed, but made no move to fight. He knew that any resistance on his side would simply make matters worse. It would give Elrond all the excuse he needed and was just what the lord of Imladris hoped for.  
  
When they entered the study, Elrond was already there. Erestor stood beside him, and on the other side of the room were Elladan and Elrohir. But Glorfindel was absent , and so was Aragorn. The very two people he could trust in to protect him were nowhere to be seen. He was alone.  
  
Elrond looked at him with dark pleasure and a strange expression of both disappointment and hunger in his eyes. Beside him, on the desk of the big study, sat the hideous pleasure staff Aragorn had used on Legolas last night, cleansed and ready to be used again, and beside it was a cruel whip with nine lashes, each set with several knots to aggravate the inflicted damage.  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. The impulse to fight, or flee, was nearly overwhelming; but he saw the four guards taking posts in front of the doors and windows and knew that either attempt would be useless. Hatred and fear coiled in his stomach like a hard, hurting fist. Nevertheless he forced himself to bow respectfully. "My Lord Elrond," he said demurely, "you wished to see me?"  
  
Elrond's eyes narrowed at the address. After all, Legolas had spoken without leave. However, since he had himself ordered the Mirkwood Elf to be brought before him, he could hardly claim offense now because the slave presented himself. So he simply glared at the Elf before him and motioned his guards to close the doors. Then he turned back to the slave.  
  
"Silence, Mirkwood spawn!" he bellowed. "You will speak only when ordered!" He saw with satisfaction that his victim paled and addressed him harshly: "I hear your master has punished you last night for your insolent behavior. Yet I distrust my foster-son's severity in this matter. He treats you far too gently as a rule. This time I will make sure that you do not get away too lightly with the insult you offered me!"  
  
Legolas swallowed again. He thought he would choke at the fear and rage that built within him, and he wanted to scream. _Treated too lightly?!_ Yet Elrond had forbidden him to make a noise, and so he dared not utter one.  
  
Elrond watched him closely and noticed with pleasure his mounting fear. With a harsh bark the lord of Imladris ordered him: "Undress!"  
  
Legolas looked up, paling, and opened his mouth, still hesitant to speak. Elrond smirked and reached for the whip on the table. Maliciously he sneered: "I gave you an order, slave! Have you fallen deaf, or do my guards need to help you follow it?"  
  
Legolas knew that he was doomed; he had to speak up, yet to do so would mean to be punished again. Still he swallowed one more time and dared to say: "My Lord..."  
  
He waited for the lash to fall, yet to his surprise one of the twins spoke up in defense of him.  
  
"Ada, you know as well as we that Legolas is not allowed to present himself naked or to offer his services to anyone while Estel is in Imladris, except with his master's explicit permission! And Aragorn has not ordered him to."  
  
Elrond, thwarted by his interference, scowled. "Well, little Mirkwood Elf, your master will just have to bear your disobedience this time! I wish to check on you and appreciate your penance, since he decided to keep the punishment he gave you private. And I deem as the offended party it is my right to see what he has done to you!"  
  
Elladan sighed and shrugged. "Do it, then, Woodelf Pet," he said. "Estel will have expected this. He won't be offended."  
  
Legolas trembled with fear, shame and rage. Yet he knew he had no choice. And Elladan was right; Estel had expected that Elrond would demand to see the marks of the previous nights punishment on his body. Wordlessly he bowed again and began to discard his pack and weapons, slipped out of the harness and finally out of his tunic. He placed his gear and clothes neatly on the floor, then stood with slightly spread arms and legs before the ruler of Imladris.  
  
Elrond regarded him with narrowed eyes. "The leggings too!" he ordered coldly.  
  
Legolas flinched. He swallowed and blushed deeply. Yet there was no further interference from the twins, and he knew he could not fend this off. So he hesitantly opened his belt and let the leggings slip to the ground, then discarded his loincloth, and stood in shamed nakedness before the _Peredhil(2)_ and the assembled Noldor.  
  
Elrohir gave an impressed whistle, and Elladan cocked his head, while Erestor devoured the trembling slave with a hungry look. Elrond walked around the naked Elf to study his bruised back and the faint marks of the needles on his sides, then he raised a brow, reluctantly impressed at the marks on the slave's body.  
  
It was Elrohir who spoke first. "Well, father," he said, "it seems that Estel has been quite thorough. I think you need not complain about his gentleness toward his pet this time!"  
  
Elrond glared at him and scowled. He did not like to be thwarted of his prey, and he liked even less to be thwarted by his own sons. Determinedly, he stepped closer to inspect the angry red welts on the slave's back and stroked over them experimentally. He let his hand drop to the blue-red buttocks and squeezed. Legolas flinched again and trembled harder in suppressed pain and the nearly overwhelming urge to strike out and kill, or flee. Inwardly he screamed for Estel, or for Glorfindel, for anyone to come and stop this. But Estel was not there. His master had abandoned him to face this trial alone.  
  
He closed his eyes and willed Estel to come. _He had promised! He had promised it only this morning!_  
  
But of course, nothing happened. And to be fair, Aragorn could not have expected this, could he? Or at least he would have expected Glorfindel to shadow Elrond long enough this morning to protect Legolas in his absence.  
  
Yet Glorfindel was not here either.  
  
Beside him, Elrond narrowed his eyes. He scowled and stepped back.  
  
"I see your master was more thorough than I thought. Still he is far too gentle! _Healing salve!?_ You don't deserve this! That way he will have these marks heal far too quickly! They should last you at least for the whole of next week, not just for a few days!"  
  
Menacingly, he took a few steps back and signaled the slave to move to the desk.  
  
"I knew I would have to take care of things myself," he said with dark triumph. "Lean forward, hands flat on this desk! I will make sure that you don't heal too soon but learn the costs of insulting one of your betters, once and for all!"  
  
Two identical voices behind him protested: "But _Ada!...._ " yet they did not speak further when Elrond swung around to glare at them.  
  
"Do not interfere!" he bellowed. "This matter is mine! Narthalion, come to help this slave fulfill his orders!"  
  
The Noldor officer came forward to follow the command. Legolas trembled. He was poised to fight, to scream, to do anything but just endure another whipping. He knew he could not bear this and hope to walk out of this room under his own power, much less partake in the Quest; he knew this had been Elrond's plan all along. He knew he would die here and Elrond would claim Silivren, since Legolas could not fulfill his duty to the fellowship for which Mirkwood's punishment had been postponed. Yet to attack would mean certain death to himself and to the other hostages, and enslavement to Silivren, anyway. And his weapons lay beside him on the floor, and his legs were still hobbled by his leggings around his ankles.  
  
Shaking with fear and rage, he scrambled forward and leaned himself on the table as he had been ordered. Narthalion stood back, a bit disappointed. Elrond placed himself at the slave's side and raised the whip. He smiled maliciously.  
  
"Now, Mirkwood spawn, count!" he said with a sneer, "I will greatly enjoy this!"  
  
Legolas tensed and closed his eyes. He would not give his tormentor the pleasure of his screams, or of his tears. He would not. Shaking, he braced himself for the blow --  
  
\-- that did not come. Instead, the door was torn open and a fierce, fell voice cut through the room: _**"Daro!"**_  
  
Elrond froze against his will and whirled around. The voice continued: "What is this? My Lord Elrond, _stop this immediately!_ This slave does not belong to you but to his master, and he has already been punished as you can well see! If you are dissatisfied with his punishment, My Lord, you should take this up with his master! Besides, he has a quest to fulfill! Shall I fetch Estel for you?!"  
  
Legolas nearly slumped with the relief that flooded him and sighed with gratitude. He could not see the door from where he stood, yet recognized the voice.  
  
Glorfindel had arrived at last to rescue him.  
  
It took Elrond but a moment to regather his wits. He let the whip sink down to his side again but did not set it away. Icily he said:  
  
"My Lord Glorfindel! This matter is between me and this slave. It does not concern you! I suggest you stay out of this and see to the preparations I believe I charged you with this morning!  
  
Glorfindel didn't miss a beat.  
  
"That is what I am doing here, My Lord!" he said firmly. "Legolas is part of the fellowship of the Ring now, and he belongs to Aragorn. For the Quest to start today, he needs to be able to walk. If you unleash your wrath on him now, after he has already been punished thoroughly by his master, you would unavoidably delay the timely departure of the fellowship for the Quest. And you charged me to see to it that all is ready so they can depart in time!"  
  
Legolas took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _'Thank you, My Lord!'_ he thought. He could only hope Glorfindel would be successful.  
  
Elrond scowled at his Seneschal.  
  
"My commands hardly include your interference into my decisions, much less in such a matter as punishing a slave, Glorfindel!" he said sharply. "The discipline of this house – and of all the Mirkwood hostages – is my concern, after all, and since his master treated him too lightly..."  
  
Glorfindel gave the back of the trembling, nearly naked Mirkwood Elf a pointed once-over, disgust and pity mingling in his eyes. "How so, My Lord? I cannot see that he was handled gently. I'd say his master has been more than thorough!" he said.  
  
Elrond sneered. "He was too gentle! He treated his injuries, used healing salve..."  
  
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. "And well he should! Legolas has a long day's travel to manage today. He needs to be capable of walking! I'd say Aragorn would perhaps have done better if he'd stopped much sooner!"  
  
Elrond's mouth thinned and his eyes narrowed. Derisively he said: "You would! You were always a bit too soft in the matter of this specific business, Glorfindel, as great a warrior as you are! However, if the Mirkwood spawn is not capable of walking after I am done, the Fellowship need not delay. We will simply send another Elf! Whatever Aragorn may claim, it is not _his_ decision who shall walk for the Elves on this Quest! It is mine!"  
  
He raised the whip again. Harshly he snarled: "Stay back, Glorfindel!"  
  
Legolas' eyes flew open, and he swallowed hard, ruthlessly suppressing his tears. It cost all of his discipline not to attack; only the thought that if he did even Glorfindel would turn against him, and he never could be fast enough to get Elrond before he was killed himself, stopped him from the attempt. Inwardly, he screamed with despair and with rage. _**So much for Estel's promises! Where was he now to see to their fulfillment?**_ Trembling with rage and with despair he waited for the blows that would seal his fate and kill him.  
  
But the blows never came. Glorfindel moved smoothly and swiftly between the shivering slave and the Lord of Imladris.  
  
 _ **"No!"**_ he shouted. _**"I can not allow this!"**_ Swiftly and fiercely he added: "My Lord, you promised! You promised Gandalf that you would postpone Mirkwood's punishment and instead let Legolas partake in this Quest! I have never known you as one to break your word or seek a way around it! Would you go as far as dishonoring yourself now just to kill a slave!?"  
  
Elrond hesitated, taking a step back. His face turned white. He was about to snarl something again, then stopped himself.  
  
Glorfindel pressed his advantage. "Please, My Lord! _Think!_ Do not do this! This is not honorable! Do not let your wrath drive you to break your word against your better judgment! _Let it go!_ "  
  
Elrond continued to glare at him for a few moments, but he knew that he had lost. He had known Glorfindel for far too long to dismiss his words easily and he knew the Balrog Slayer would not move. If he wished to carry out his plan and whip the hated slave he would need to have his Seneschal ordered to be removed from the room by his own guards and to be kept restrained; and that would lose him Glorfindel's services, even more so since the Gondolin Elf thought Elrond's very honor at stake because of this. Glorfindel would not continue to serve him if he thought his Liege Lord had dishonored himself, and Elrond could hardly afford to lose his service now at the very eve of war.  
  
Finally he took a deep breath, calmed himself with some effort and set the whip aside. Angrily he barked: "Fine! You may have your way in this! For this one time, the Mirkwood spawn may get off more easily than he deserves!"  
  
He stepped away from the desk and around Glorfindel and turned back to the slave. "You, Mirkwood slave! Dress yourself and get down to the courtyard! You are lucky today! But this is far from over! And you had better see to it that you do not insult me another time!"  
  
Legolas did not dare to speak a word. He merely forced himself to turn around, bowed, and began clumsily to redo his clothes, first the loincloth, then the leggings and his belt. He had trouble getting up again as he half knelt to angle for his leggings, and he still shook violently, but somehow he managed to dress himself again at least up to his waist.  
  
Elrond gave him a last, disgusted look, then he turned back to Glorfindel.  
  
"Better see to it that he finds his way down to the courtyard without further delay," he growled, then he nodded curtly, motioned his Steward and his guards to accompany him, and left the room.  
  
The twins, however, hesitated a moment and stayed behind, waiting until the others were gone.  
  
Glorfindel glared at them, his expression warning against any further attempts at humiliation of his charge.  
Elladan actually took a step back; Elrohir merely raised a brow.  
  
Finally, Elladan offered: „Well done, Glorfindel! Estel will be pleased!"  
Elrohir added, speaking towards Legolas: "See, Little Pet? We can be nice, too! It was us who send Lindir to fetch him!"  
  
He smiled. "Maybe, when the two of you return, you can think of a way to thank us."  
  
Glorfindel's glare became fierce, and he took a protective step forward. "That's enough, Elrohir!" he warned. "I suggest you'd better go and see to your chores!"  
  
The younger twin took a step back. Elladan rose his hands. "Peace, Glorfindel!" he said. "We just wanted him to know that we do not wish him killed, either!"  
  
He turned to Legolas.  
  
"Have a good journey, Woodelf-Pet. And do not worry about father's threats. If you are successful, he can hardly carry them out. You'll see! All will be well!"  
  
With that, he gave Legolas and Glorfindel a nod and left the room. Elrohir followed him.  
  
Legolas let out the breath he'd held. Wordlessly, he turned around and supported himself by leaning on the table with his hands,since his knees threatened to give out under him. He swallowed a sob.  
  
In the next moment Glorfindel was at his side, lending him his support. Quietly, the golden headed Noldor offered:"Lean on me for a moment. Take a deep breath!"  
  
Gratefully, Legolas obeyed,and Glorfindel supported him while he regained his strength. After a few moments he asked: "Do you think you can stand?"  
  
Careful, leaning on the Noldor Lord, Legolas straightened himself up. When he found that his legs agreed to carry him again, he let go of Glorfindel's helping arm and turned to his rescuer.  
  
"Thank you, My Lord," he finally said, still a bit shaken. "I think I can manage."  
  
Glorfindel studied him with dismay and concern.  
  
"I see Estel was very harsh with you last night," he said. "I wished he had paid more heed to your need to travel today!"  
  
Legolas swallowed back the tears that threatened to escape. He bowed his head. Bitterly he said:  
"I am still capable of walking, My Lord. And as it is, had my master been less hard on me, Lord Elrond might not have been dissuaded."  
  
He looked up and met Glorfindel's eyes. "I have to thank you again, My Lord! You saved my life!"  
  
Glorfindel's gaze was troubled.  
  
"Think nothing of it, Greenleaf! I wish I could have been here sooner!" he said.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Aragorn would have done better to do less last night and instead stay with you today until he had delivered you safely to Gandalf. What was he thinking? If Lindir had not come to me in time... that was far too close!"  
  
He shook his head again and swallowed his anger.  
  
"Forgive me! It is not your place to answer for the decisions of your master! But if time permits, I think I will have words with him about this!"  
  
Then he studied the shaking, half-naked Elf before him more closely. His concern grew. "Are you sure you can walk?" he asked. "Shall I take you to the Healing Wing, to apply more of the salve?"  
  
Legolas shuddered at the thought of spending any more time than absolutely necessary under the roof of Imladris. He shook his head again.  
  
"I am fine, My Lord," he lied bravely. "I can manage. I just need to redo my clothes again..."  
  
Glorfindel studied him another moment, then he relented and simply gave the Mirkwood Elf a nod. "As you wish, Greenleaf," he said. "And you are probably right; the sooner we get you safely into the presence of Gandalf, the better."  
  
He bowed down and picked the discarded shirt and tunic off the floor. "Here, let me help you..."  
  
He handed him the shirt and helped him put it on, then proceeded to hand him the tunic and his weapons. Legolas was grateful for the help. Getting into his clothes again hurt, since his bruised flesh protested any touch and his body hurt at every movement, and he was still badly shaken by the near escape. But the matter-of-fact manner in which the Noldor assisted him and his quiet respect helped a lot.  
  
Finally he was done and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to regain his calm again and get accustomed anew to his hurting back.  
  
A warm hand settled on his shoulder and steadied him. He looked up again and met the concerned eyes of the Noldor Lord.  
  
"I'm sorry about this, Greenleaf," Glorfindel said. "You know, I think both Aragorn and Elrond are not entirely acting like themselves right now. They may be influenced by the Ring. It seems to prey on them, on Elrond's rage, Aragorn's need for harshness...." He wrinkled his brows. "Be on your guard, Greenleaf! It will continue to try to sow discord. Remember what I told you yesterday."  
  
Troubled and concerned he added: "The sooner this _**thing**_ leaves Rivendell, the better!"  
  
Legolas said nothing. It was a comforting thought that Aragorn might not entirely have been himself last night, that it was not really _Estel_ who had hurt him like this, and then left him alone to face Lord Elrond. He truly wished to believe it. Still... he wasn't sure. There had been a darker, more cruel, scary side to Aragorn he had not seen this clearly ever before, and yet... there was a bitter voice inside his head suspecting that he had simply been pretty blind to avoid seeing it. And more, he could not help the growing numbness in himself, the feeling that it didn't really matter, that he didn't care.  
  
Yet he could not say _that_ to Glorfindel of Gondolin, who respected him for his very willingness to endure his fate and suffer it nobly to protect his people.  
  
Nor could he tell the Seneschal of Imladris what he truly thought of Elrond.  
  
Finally he said very carefully and politely:  
  
"I am in no position to keep guard against the influence of the Ring on others, My Lord Glorfindel, or against its possible attempts to sway my master. I am bound to obey my master and to serve his wishes. And the Ring will be traveling with us."  
  
Glorfindel looked troubled.  
  
"True," he admitted. "But once you are on the Quest, Aragorn can't treat you too harshly again while in the company of others. You will be safe at least from the worst. And once this Quest is over, if you succeed, the Shadow will hold no longer sway over him, or at all. And Estel truly cares about you."  
  
Quietly he added: "Just remember what I told you yesterday. You will need not only to guard Estel's back, and your own, on this Quest, but also both your hearts. The Ring will tempt you both. Pay it no heed, Greenleaf! It will not hold whatever it promises you. The Shadow never does!"  
  
Legolas took a deep breath and bowed respectfully to the Balrog-Slayer. "I will do whatever I can, My Lord," he said, although it tasted like ashes in his mouth. "I do not plan to give myself over to the Ring's promises. Nor, if I can help it, my master."  
  
It seemed to be enough. Glorfindel studied him another moment, then he nodded.  
  
"I trust in you, Greenleaf," he said. Then he smiled.  
  
"Now come! Follow me into the courtyard. Once you are with Gandalf, Elrond cannot touch you again!"  
  
Legolas did what he was told.  
  
  
_________________0_________________  
  
  
  
\--TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Narthalion – Sindarin_ : „Fiery dauntless one" (OC name).  
  
(2) _Peredhil – Sindarin_ : Half-Elves (plural of _Peredhel_ , Half-Elf). Elrond and his sons are Half Elven by heritage since they have human blood. In addition, they are also half Sindar and half Noldor.


	17. Departure

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.  
All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Implied torture (of the night before).  
 _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. Some sentences in this chapter have been directly lifted from scenes of the Extended Editions of Peter Jacksons Movies FOTR and TTT. Those are credited with an asterisk*. However, I took the liberty to change the context.  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
______________________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XV. Departure**  
  
  
Aragorn knelt at his mother's grave and reverently cleared it of fallen leaves, twigs and other debris.  
Carefully, he cleared the Elven inscription, freed the statue from clinging tendrils and moss.  
With regret he looked at the tell-tale signs of neglect. He found his way much too seldom here.  
  
 _'And now I do not even know if I shall return,' he thought. 'Here I am, forced to face my destiny at last. And I could not feel less ready, or less worthy.'_  
  
Briefly he thought back to Legolas. The incredible amount of pain he had put him through last night, and his own, startled horror as he fully realized how far he had gone only while treating his slave's injuries this morning. The unintentional little flinches of his slave whenever he reached to touch him or just came close. The sudden little silences, the carefully rehearsed words, the equally careful avoidance of his gaze, the fear lurking in his slave's eyes whenever he forced him to meet it... The effort it took him to coax Legolas back to teasing...  
  
Of course, last nights hurts and memories were very fresh right now. Still... this behavior of his slave had become all too common lately.  
  
And he recalled vividly seeing Legolas in his bonds last night, and had to swallow hard at his sudden arousal. He also recalled his own feelings at seeing him like this. He had been elated, giddy, as if drugged; he could not stop himself, even as he knew the listeners were gone. It had been so exciting, seeing his slave like that, and he could still feel the urge to _go further, do more, push his slave even deeper into pain and hold him there... to try out how much closer to the edge he could bring him..._ It was as if he had been possessed, nearly blinded with obsession and desire.  
  
Only this morning he had truly realized how far he had gone, and had been shocked and abashed by the evidence of his own handiwork.  
  
But still, this all had been about survival, had it not? He had to make sure Legolas was safe, that Elrond would find no excuse to punish him himself... and after all, Legolas was _**bound**_ to serve his needs...  
  
And yet...  
  
Sighing and with some effort, Aragorn shoved the images away and concentrated back on the task of cleaning the headstone in front of him.  
  
 _'You would be horrified if you could see me now,'_ he thought bitterly, tracing the Elven letters on the headstone. _'But you warned me, did you not? You never approved of me taking a slave. You thought it unmanly to take a male lover, but when you learned I had been given that lover as my slave you berated me even worse. You thought it would increase my streak of cruelty, it would corrupt me... and you were right.'_  
  
Still, Gilraen had really liked Legolas and had treated him as part of the family after she finally accepted his place in her son's life. She had not treated the Elf like a slave or servant, but more like a second son. Or maybe rather as a kind of son-in-law, come to think of it. Aragorn knew Legolas had positively liked her.  
  
Gilraen had deeply disapproved of the custom of Imladris of enslaving other Elves and keeping them as pleasure slaves. It was one of the reasons she had left the Elven realm after Aragorn's majority to live with her father's people. Still, after her death Aragorn had brought her body back to be buried here, because he thought this way he could more easily and more often care for her grave.  
  
 _'You warned me, mother,'_ he thought bitterly. _'You always feared the darkness you could feel in Lord Elrond would corrupt me. And you were right.'_  
  
He raised his hands to the marble cheeks. "And still you brought me here to be fostered in Rivendell. What were you thinking?"  
  
He was hardly aware that he had spoken this last sentence aloud, and so he jumped a little when suddenly a voice behind him answered in rolling Sindarin.  
  
"She only wanted to protect her child," Elrond said, walking slowly towards him. "She thought here in Imladris you would be safe."*  
  
Coming closer, he added: "In her heart, your mother knew that you would be hunted all your life. That you would never escape your destiny."*  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. He did not turn around at once; he was not yet ready to face his foster-father.  
  
Elrond continued: "The skill of the Elves can reforge the sword of kings. But only _you_ have the power to wield it!"*  
  
Finally, Aragorn turned to face him.  
  
"I do not want that power!"* he said forcefully. "I _never_ wanted it! Except perhaps to protect those who depend on me."  
  
Elrond hesitated. He was taken aback. Then he made a scornful face. "You speak of Legolas!" he stated.  
  
Aragorn gave him a half-bow. "Maybe," he said flatly. "Among others."  
  
Elrond scowled. "You will have to give him up once you wed and decide to produce heirs one day," he said. "You are the last of that bloodline. There is no other!"  
  
Aragorn fixed him with an unreadable gaze. "Maybe," he said. Inwardly, he thought: _'Or not. I deem that is rather a matter between me and my future wife.'_ Aloud, he added: "But until then, I will keep him by my side."  
  
  
Elrond looked at him with narrowed eyes. Finally, he shrugged. "Your slave is precious to you," he stated. "Maybe too precious. Yet it is well that you should choose to keep him, for it may still be a long time until you may find a wife." He saw Aragorn's startled and unbelieving expression and ventured on: "I will not have my daughter bind herself to you!"  
  
Aragorn looked startled. "My Lord," he began, "surely..."  
  
Elrond looked at him angrily.  
  
"You do not understand!" he said. "You are mortal! I know my daughter loves you. Still..."  
  
He interrupted himself. Decisively he went on: "Our time here is ending. Arwen's time is ending! I wish you to let her go, let her bear her love for you to the Undying Lands, where it will be ever green!" *  
  
Aragorn shivered. So this was what his foster-father was getting at? He frowned.  
"But never more than a memory!"* he protested.  
  
Elrond looked at him darkly and threateningly. "I will not leave my daughter here to die!"* he said.  
  
Aragorn drew his brows together. "She stays because she still has hope!"* he replied.  
  
Elrond scowled. Forcefully and harshly he said: "She stays for _**you!**_ She belongs to her _**people!**_ "*  
  
Unrelenting and imperiously he added: "You will let her go and tell her it is over. Find yourself a mortal woman to marry you and give you heirs. Leave my daughter to me!"  
  
Aragorn stared at him. He was tempted to tell himself that Elrond was influenced by the Shadow, that he was merely getting back at him because he had not succeeded in killing Legolas, but he couldn't deceive himself. The expression on Elrond's face in this moment was not that of a petty, vile overlord set on vengeance for an imagined slight, but of a hurt and protective father.  
  
And hadn't he himself asked Arwen to not forsake her immortality for him only two nights ago? Could he now blame her father that he did the same?  
  
Without another word, he bowed to his former foster-father and took his leave, intent on slipping into the courtyard without further goodbye. He was determined to go and never set foot into Imladris again.  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
Yet his intentions to leave without goodbye were thwarted. Arwen found him on his way back from the gardens; obviously, she had waited for him.  
  
Hurt and a bit irritated she asked: "Is this how you would take your leave? Did you think you could slip away at first light unnoticed?"*  
  
He looked at her, dismayed that she had caught him, then strode on. Determined to get this over with he said: "I will not be coming back."*  
  
She was confused. Following him on his way to the courtyard she said: "You underestimate your skill in battle. You will come back."*  
  
He sighed and turned around to her.  
  
"It is not of death in battle that I speak,"* he told her gently.  
  
She looked at him, alarmed and confused. "Of what do you speak, then?"* she asked.  
  
Aragorn felt torn and was taken aback by the trust and confusion in her eyes. What should he tell her? What _could_ he tell her? That her own father had forbidden him to court her again, and that now, finally, he had agreed, although he never had before? After sixty years of waiting?  
  
That he had come to the conclusion she would be better off without him after all?  
  
Gently, but gravely he said: "You have the chance for another life. Away from war, grief and despair."*  
  
It was nothing more than he had said two days before, and she knew it. She was taken aback, searching his eyes, trying to understand what had brought about this sudden change. With a disbelieving whisper she asked: "Why do you say this?"*  
  
He gave a deep sigh. "Arwen...." he said, then continued: "I am mortal. You are Elf-kind. It was a dream, Arwen. Nothing more."*  
  
She looked at him, wide-eyed. "I don't believe you..."* she whispered. Then a thought sprang to her mind, and she took a step back. "Is this about Legolas?" she suddenly asked. "Did you decide to spurn me, then, for him?" Hurt and betrayal were in her eyes. He knew that he should lie, that he should tell her that, yes, this was about Legolas, that he had decided to be content with his slave and give her up. But he couldn't. Her visible pain, her bright eyes, withholding her tears, tore him apart and he could not lie to her.  
  
"No, this is not about Legolas," he told her gently. "This is about _you_. I do not wish to draw you into my mortality with me. I cannot let you make this sacrifice. I need to let you go."  
  
Gently, but determinedly, he took the pendant from his neck and placed it in her hand. "This belongs to you,"* he offered.  
  
Arwen searched his eyes for a long moment, then she made a decision. Whatever had brought him to this point had nothing to do with his slave, and she would not manage to get any explanation out of him; nor could she change his mind. But she had time; he would have many weeks to think about her on this Quest. She could wait and discuss this when he was back at last.  
  
Forcing her face into a benign smile she said: "It was a gift. Keep it!"* And she placed the pendant back into his hands.  
  
Aragorn thought for a moment to refuse, but she had already stepped away. After another moment of hesitation he gave her a solemn nod. So he would have something to remember her by.  
  
With a reverent bow he took his leave of her and went down to the courtyard, away from the woman he had always thought to be the love of his life and to the male Elf who was bound to him beyond hope and without any choice. The one whose love and loyalty he'd once possessed but had ruined long since, and changed it to the bitter and torn shape of things between them now.  
  
At least Legolas was better off with him than with the other options open to the slave, and he knew it. Aragorn was determined to do whatever was in his power to keep it that way.  
  
Quickly he checked his slave for any signs of new injury, trying to meet his gaze, to find out if he had encountered Elrond, but to no avail. Legolas avoided his eyes and studied the ground. They were in the presence of Gandalf and the Dwarf, so he could not ask too openly. Then he felt a hard hand on his shoulder and whipped around to find himself in front of Glorfindel, whose face held a stern and determined expression. "Aragorn," the Seneschal said gravely, "a word!"  
  
His eyes flicked quickly to the nearby stable buildings, and there was no doubt that he meant business. Aragorn hesitated a moment and glanced over to his slave. Legolas seemed to shrink a bit into himself and intensified his study of the ground, obviously finding it utterly fascinating. Aragorn gave Glorfindel a short resigned look, then nodded politely and followed him. He knew he was about to receive a thorough dressing-down, although he did not know yet what had earned him the Balrog-Slayer's wrath.  
  
  
Legolas looked after them when they went out of earshot and apparently had a fierce, quiet discussion near one of the stable buildings. He just hoped that Glorfindel's determination to give Aragorn a piece of his mind would not result in further punishment for himself, or darken Aragorn's mood even more. He saw Aragorn's eyes widen in alarm at Glorfindel's angry words, saw his face going pale, saw him cast a quick, shocked look in his own direction. Judging from his master's expression, Estel seemed rather shocked and guilty than angered by Glorfindel's berating words.  
  
He looked away.  
  
His back hurt where the weight of the quiver pressed on it; so did his rear and thighs, and his side where he had to endure the pressure of his pack. And he felt a little bit dizzy. He had only consumed a meager slice of bread with butter while he had visited the kitchen, and after the enforced fast yesterday and the exhaustion from the torture he went through last night, it was not nearly enough to give his healing body succor. To distract himself, he looked around and began a study of the waiting Dwarf.  
  
The stout _Nogoth_ stared back at him with a disdainful expression, and Legolas soon avoided his gaze again. He did not feel the strength within himself to endure a staring match, not today at least. He heard the Dwarf snort disdainfully and cast his eyes back to the ground. Great! Now he had given him the impression of weakness!  
  
He was distracted by the arrival of the Hobbit's and Boromir and was relieved to hear their excited chatter. Then the twins appeared, and his mood sank down again.  
  
Elrond's sons looked quickly and questioningly around, spotted Estel, and began to walk into his and Glorfindel's direction. Aragorn gave them a relieved look, and Glorfindel turned around, stopped in his lecture. Aragorn graced him with a bow and a few, quiet words, then he moved into the direction of his foster-brothers and met them half ways. Legolas saw them meet, share a hug, and spotted that Elladan slipped Aragorn a small bundle. His master took it with a grateful nod and slipped it into his pack. Then Elrond and his entourage streamed into the courtyard.  
  
Legolas allowed himself a relieved sigh. It was time!  
  
He made it through Elrond's solemn words about the fellowship, and even managed a courteous greeting, although it hurt his back and he was not as graceful as he would normally have been. It helped to imagine he was giving his greeting solely to Glorfindel, who had taken his place behind his Liege-Lord again and gave Legolas a reassuring look.  
  
Then the seeing-off was done and the fellowship finally filtered out of the doorway. Legolas saw Aragorn hesitate a moment and study Arwen; but their mute exchange seemed subdued, and he could not discern the meaning of their mutual expressions. Frankly, he didn't care. He just wished Aragorn would hurry, so they could be away. He was eager to leave Rivendell behind, and he prayed to the Valar that he would never need to set foot in the house, or the whole valley, again.  
  
Finally, Aragorn turned around, saw him waiting and nodded to him to join the others of the fellowship. Legolas didn't need another prompting. He nearly ran to catch up with them. Aragorn followed with fast strides.  
  
They did not speak. Quickly they passed the bridge and left Rivendell behind, and at least for Legolas it was indeed a departure for good, never to return there in his life.  
  
  
_________________ o ________________  
  
\-- End of Part III --  
  
  
\-- TBC --


	18. On The Road

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Implied torture (of the night before).  
 _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
______________________________________________  
  
  
\-- Part IV: The Quest Begins --  
  
  
 **XVI. On The Road**  
  
  
Legolas adjusted his pack for what must have been the fifth time. It was no use. However he shifted the heavy weight, it still hurt where ever it applied pressure to his sore back and sides; as did the straps that he used to carry it. So did the heavy water skin. He could not readjust his quiver, though, and it chafed on his sore and swollen back with every new step. Soon after their start he had sunk in a sort of dizzy, half aware haze, concentrating just on every single step after the other. It was only three hours since they had left Rivendell and he felt exhausted already. The walk was taxing his strength more than he had anticipated, even after the exertions he went through last night.  
  
His stomach was empty, but by now he supposed he would be unable to eat and keep down anything even if he had been offered, because of the persistent feeling of nausea that rested there. He did not know that he was deadly pale, frequently stumbling and that his eyes held a slightly unfocused gaze. His whole face was bathed in sweat, and his lips had withdrawn into a thin, grim and determined line.  
  
Suddenly, there was a derisive and scornful voice beside him.  
  
"If a little walk tries you this much already, Master Elf, then maybe you should have stayed home!"  
  
Startled, he looked around, and it took him a moment to realize that it had been the Dwarf that had spoken and that he needed to look _**down**_ instead beside him. This lack of awareness earned him another derisive snort.  
  
"I thought you Elves are supposed to have such sharp senses?" the Dwarf drawled. "Obviously not! But you are lucky, Elf, we haven't gone that far! You can still turn tail and run home!"  
  
He sneered. "I suppose this Quest is too much for a weak Elven princeling!"  
  
For a moment, Legolas felt himself vexed enough to search his brain for an equally sneering answer, but then he just gave in to his exhaustion and trudged on without giving attention to the disdainful words and voice. He just didn't have the strength to spare to give the taunting back; he needed all his vigor and his nerves just to stay upright. His subdued demeanor earned him another derisive sneer. Obviously, the _Nogoth_ saw his failure to retaliate as a proof of weakness. But at the moment he could not care less.  
  
 _'Let him walk after a night of torture with a heavy pack and quiver on his back; then we can talk,'_ he thought, yet even this thought seemed to tax his mind too much and he simply concentrated on trudging on.  
  
Quick footsteps closed up to him and looking around again he saw the familiar form of his master. "Legolas," Aragorn said and laid his hand lightly on his arm, "a word!"  
  
He looked dismayed and concerned when his slave could not help flinching involuntarily at his touch even though he had been careful not to touch him anywhere where Legolas was bruised or wounded.  
  
"Slow down for a moment, Little Leaf," he continued in Silvain, "stand and let us talk."  
  
Sighing, but obedient, Legolas stayed his steps. He swayed a little when he did, and Aragorn paled and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. He studied him with growing concern.  
  
"How fares your back?" he asked, still in Silvain.  
  
Legolas gave him an incredulous look. _What did he think? He himself had placed the bruises and welts there that now made his slave's back feel as if it was on fire!_ Still, he had asked and expected an answer, so Legolas replied obediently, also using Silvain: "It hurts, master. Your punishment was quite thorough."  
  
He was a bit astonished to see Aragorn wince and make a face. That had been the intention of it all, had it not?  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I know that it must hurt you, Little Leaf," he said. "Give me your pack, and your water skin. I will carry them for you."  
  
Legolas looked at him without comprehension. "But..."  
  
Aragorn looked exasperated. " _Do as I say!_ Right now you need all the strength you can spare to heal, and heal as fast as you can. You cannot afford to carry more than you must. I will carry your pack for you during the next two days, and also I will take your watches. Do not argue!"  
  
Baffled, Legolas just regarded him a moment, then he finally brought his mind up to speed. Quickly and with a short flicker of his eyes to the watching _Nogoth_ he protested: "But the Dwarf..."  
  
His master uttered an exasperated Silvain curse that actually made Legolas flinch once more.  
  
 _ **"I do not care about the Dwarf!"**_ Aragorn spat. "Right now I could not care less what he thinks of you, or of me, or what anybody else will think! You need your strength for other things right now, and you _will_ obey me! He may later see you in a fight or taking up your chores like everybody else, when you are well again!"  
  
Still exasperated, but more gentle, he added: " _Please_ , Little Leaf! Will you stop arguing now and just obey? Before this whole conversation reaches the ears of Gandalf? He speaks Silvain, too, you know!"  
  
Still a bit baffled, Legolas gave him an obedient nod and shrugged out of his pack and water skin. While he handed both to Aragorn he dared to say hesitantly: "But... you said... it was to be part of my punishment..."  
  
To his surprise Aragorn flinched again. Then his master took his pack and water skin and adjusted them on his own back.  
  
"I know what I said, Little Leaf," Aragorn finally answered. "And I am not relieving you of your quiver, am I? still, there is _punishment_ , and there is _prudence_. And prudence demands that you should not overtax your strength when you have none to spare."  
  
  
Legolas had the distinct impression that Aragorn wanted to say something completely different, something more personal, but he could for the life of him not guess what it may be; and Estel seemed reluctant to speak clearly. Maybe he did not want to speak too openly while others might be listening. Gandalf came to mind, for one, and they were still close to Rivendell.  
  
Besides he felt truly relieved and grateful. "Thank you, master," he offered. Then a thought came to his mind. "Is this about Glorfindel?" he asked, "Did he ask you to do this for me?"  
  
Somewhere within himself, he felt his heart sink. It had been a warming and comforting thought that Estel might actually care that much, that he might have decided to rethink his judgment, but of course it had been too much to hope. Why should his master go back on his own decisions?  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes. His face showed pain.  
  
"Yes, he _did_ ask me to go easy on you, Little Leaf," he admitted sadly, "but he would not have needed to. I had planned to do this already even before he asked. I just had to wait until we were far enough away from Imladris, so Elrond would have no excuse to change his mind!"  
  
He opened his eyes again and looked back at his slave. "He told me what happened this morning. I'm sorry, Little Leaf."  
  
He held Legolas' gaze for a few moments, saw the slight dizziness and incomprehension there and bowed his head. _Obviously, the damage was done. It would take him some time to regain his slave's trust again!_  
  
With a sigh he fumbled in his own pack and produced the slim bundle that Elladan had earlier slipped to him. He unwrapped it and revealed a few fresh leaves each wrapped around a thin, triangular form, and a small flask. He unwrapped one of the triangles and handed his slave the wafer. "Here! I know that you had hardly time to eat, and you will sorely need it. And this," he uncorked the flask and handed it to Legolas, "will give you back your strength. Go easy on it, do not drink too much; we shall need it again later and I think it should not be drunk in great amounts on an empty stomach!"  
  
Legolas took the slim wafer in wonder. _Lembas!_ How had his master obtained _Lembas?!_ He did not know Elrond had given them such supplies. Maybe the Lady Arwen...?  
  
Gratefully, he took the slight wafer and took a bite, then munched happily away at it. This would be easy on the stomach and would stay down even though his still persistent feeling of nausea. Then he took the offered flask and found himself treated with a sip of _Miruvor!_  
  
Gratefully and greatly relieved he took another sip, then handed the little flask back. Aragorn sniffed at it, then took a sip himself and closed it. He smiled. "Save me a bite of the _Lembas_ , too," he said. "Just in case my brothers tried something funny." He saw with dismay Legolas' sudden hesitation to eat and laid a placating hand on his back.  
  
"Do not worry! They will have known that I would eat it, too. I asked them to provide us with some _Lembas_ and _Miruvor_ yesterday evening." A little bitterly he added: "I knew you would need nourishment today."  
  
Legolas looked at him, and for the first time since they spoke a tiny spark of hope and trust dawned again within his eyes. _So it was indeed Estel who had thought of this. He had not ceased to care._  
  
Aragorn saw it with relief. He gave the shoulder under his hand a careful squeeze. "Trust me, Little Leaf," he pleaded. "We are away from Rivendell. It will get better now."  
  
Very hesitantly, Legolas offered: "Thank you, master."  
  
They were ripped from their intimacy by a gruff and quite exasperated voice.  
  
"Well, so much for courtesy among the fellowship!" the Dwarf drawled. "Speak something we all can understand! And I did not know that we were stopping for rest already. Is that Elvish Weakling too feeble to wait until we call for an halt? He must be indeed if he can not even carry his own pack. How could it come about that such a Weakling would join such a Quest? Was there no other, stronger Elf to have?"  
  
  
Aragorn whipped around to face the Dwarf; Legolas glared at the stunted creature. The _Nogoth_ stood there, eyes glittering maliciously and face laid into a sneer, and watched them with derision. It was clear he was exasperated, and as clear that he was aiming for quarrel.  
  
Aragorn regarded the Dwarf with a long, very cool look.  
  
"Not that this would be any of your business, Master Dwarf," he drawled in Common, "but this is not about weakness."  
  
Legolas said nothing. He was trying very hard to appear strong, alert and well.  
  
The Dwarf snorted derisively. "Oh?" he snarled, "Why then do you take his pack?! That dainty Elven princeling is so exhausted from this little walk already that he is swaying on his feet! Just look at him!" he added accusingly and with obvious disgust.  
  
Legolas glared down at him, too angry now to care about his own physical state. Aragorn laid a warning hand on his arm without even looking. Unfortunately he touched a spot that was sore from last night's whipping, and Legolas could not suppress a flinch.  
  
Aragorn pretended he had not noticed. He shrugged. "Legolas had a trying night," he said casually. "Still my carrying his pack is not about weakness. Not his," he gave the Elf beside him a short nod, "or mine." He shrugged his shoulders again. "If you _have_ to know, it is about a bet. I lost, and now I have to carry it for him!"  
  
Legolas' eyes flickered a bit at this astounding lie, but he recovered fast and admirably. "And it is about time you remembered that!" he chimed in. "It is your own fault, Estel! Why did you have to bet on the patience of the _Dwarves_ of all people? I _told_ you that they would disrupt the council..."  
  
Aragorn gave him an incredulous look and rolled his eyes. _Trust Legolas to find a way to provoke the Dwarf even further!_ Yet he answered with faked outrage:  
  
"It was hardly them alone who did it! As I recall, there was a _certain Elf..._ "  
  
Legolas stared back at him, apparently hurt. "Don't you try to wriggle out of this!" he cried, equally outraged, "Did you propose this bet or did you not?!"  
  
Aragorn gave him a disgusted look. "I did," he growled. "And I lost. But having to carry your pack and water for three days, and taking over all your chores and watches is a bit high a price for this. It is hardly fair!"  
  
Legolas eyes were wide. _Three days?! That was even more than Estel had offered at first!_ "Yet it was _you_ who set the price," he nevertheless insisted. "And had _you_ won it would have been _my_ place to do your chores."  
  
Aragorn could not shake the feeling that his slave enjoyed this game of skilfully chosen innuendo far too much. Still, he did not break their game.  
  
"Oh, _drop it,_ " he answered seemingly disgusted. "Just don't think I will take up a bet with you again anytime soon. _And_ you can be sure I will get back at you!"  
  
With dismay, he saw Legolas involuntarily wince at this threat, and shrugged. "Just not these next three days," he growled.  
  
Again their exchange was disrupted by the Dwarf who had taken this long to recover from his stunned anger.  
  
"You _dare_ to bet about me and my people?" he growled furiously.  
  
Both the Elf and the Ranger gave him an astonished look. Apparently they had briefly forgotten he was there. _Again._  
  
It was the Elf who recovered first.  
  
"Why, yes, we did, Master Dwarf," he said lightly and with a bit of haughtiness, "we are in the habit to bet about a lot of things. Why should you and your people be excepted?!"  
  
Inwardly, Legolas seethed. He was still exhausted, but this new insult and presumption of the _Nogoth_ was too much! The Stunted One was _**not**_ his master, and he would _**not**_ show any deference to him unless Aragorn explicitly commanded him to do so!  
  
Aragorn heard him reply and groaned inwardly. Apparently the _Miruvor_ and the _Lembas_ had done a good job of restoring Legolas' strength, if the Elf felt up to baiting the Dwarf already. And he could hardly interfere and stop him now, because this encounter would set some kind of ground rules between the two. If he now called his slave to heel and forbade him to retaliate against the _Nogoth_ , he would ensure Legolas was at the mercy of the Dwarf – and any other member of the Fellowship - for the rest of their entire journey. He had no intention of doing that.  
  
And had he not himself established that they would not let them know Legolas was a slave?  
  
So he decided to give his Elf free rein and play along. And maybe he could find another way to remind Legolas not to go too far...  
  
"Besides, Master Dwarf" he added casually, "it is not you alone among the Fellowship who has figured as the object of a bet already. I seem to recall a certain bet about the state of Gandalf's beard..."  
  
Legolas seemed alarmed and paled a bit. "Not _that_ again, Estel," he pleaded. "You _promised!_ You promised that you would not bring that up again within Gandalf's hearing!"  
  
Aragorn raised a brow. The bet in question had involved an accident with Gandalf's fireworks, some startled rangers and a very grumpy wizard. Whose mood did _not_ improve as he heard Legolas and Halbarad had actually dared to bet how much of his beard had survived the accident (only half of it, to be exact), and had been quite inventive in his retaliation. To this day, it was one of Aragorn's fonder memories, including his cousin's and Legolas' faces at the colour of their hair next morning, and the satisfied smirk of the wizard.  
  
Luckily, both Legolas' and Halbarad's hair had returned to its usual colour within the month. But the memory should serve to subdue his Elf and calm his tongue enough for the moment.  
  
The answer of the Dwarf thwarted his plan. Angrily, the Nogoth growled: "I am sure _Tharkun(1)_ would not be pleased to hear he was the object of your silly bets, and I suggest _you_ , Master Elf, desist henceforth from betting about me or my people! Or will have to cure you from the habit with my axe!"  
  
Aragorn gave the shoulder of his slave under his hand a quick and warning squeeze and felt Legolas flinch. He knew without looking that Legolas had swallowed an angry comeback at the last moment under his warning touch.  
  
Carefully and with a small bow, he said:  
  
"Very well, Master Dwarf. We did not know it was against your custom to bet or be the object of a bet, or that you would feel it to be insulting. We meant no offense!"  
  
Taking his clue from his master, Legolas gave the _Nogoth_ a small bow of his own, although he seemed slightly disappointed.  
  
"We will be mindful of your _**sensibilities**_ from now on," the Elf said, "as much as possible."  
  
The Dwarf glared at him, and Aragorn suppressed a sigh. "Be careful, Little Leaf," he warned in Silvain, "and mind your tongue! That is quite enough!"  
  
Legolas swallowed and lowered his lashes. He was all too aware of the glittering, malevolent eyes of the Dwarf who missed nothing of his reaction as he bowed his head a bit to his master and subsided.  
  
Haughtily, the Dwarf answered him: "You do that! And in repayment of the offense you caused me and my people you can carry my pack!"  
  
Legolas took a step back, glaring at the _Nogoth_. He was shocked and speechless. Then his eyes flickered shortly to his master's irritated face and he remembered that the Dwarf could not know of his status and simply tried to humiliate him with his demand. Recovering fast, he offered smoothly and politely:  
  
"I am afraid I cannot do that, Master Dwarf, since I do not recall that I have lost any bet to _you_. Or that I and Estel would owe you any other debt I could remember."  
  
He cast a quick look at his master, uncertain about Aragorn's reaction. Maybe he would be punished again for this, but he would be damned if he allowed that Dwarf to order him around without a direct command of his master to submit to him!  
  
To his relief, Aragorn seemed similarly outraged at Gimli's demand. His master gave the Dwarf a measuring look and added without missing a beat:  
  
"Still, if you are already tired or your burden, Master Dwarf, I am sure we can add it to the packs that are carried by the pony for awhile..."  
  
Legolas said nothing and kept his face carefully blank. And his master felt that _**his**_ words to the Dwarf were provoking?!  
  
"Tired?!" the Dwarf cried outraged. "I'll have you know, Master Ranger, that Dwarves can carry more than their own weight for days at need, without complaint or any feeling of exhaustion! Not like _**that**_ one!" he said derisively, nodding at the Elf.  
  
Glowering inwardly, but carefully hiding it, Aragorn answered mildly: "Yet it was _you_ , not him, who asked to be relieved of your pack."  
  
Glaring back at him, the Dwarf hesitated just for another moment. Then he just growled something unintelligible and trudged on without another word.  
  
Aragorn watched him go, then he turned back to his slave and raised his brows.  
  
 _ **"'Dwarven patience'?!"**_ he asked in Silvain. "Did you _**have**_ to offend him further?!"  
  
Legolas looked down.  
  
"He called me weak," he said a bit defiantly. "Besides, claiming a bet was your idea. And you said that we should act as if we were just friends and I was free."  
  
Bleak despair threatened to close around him. Would Aragorn decide to take that back now?!  
  
Aragorn regarded him for a moment, then he gave the Elven shoulder under his hand another reassuring squeeze. He sighed and nodded.  
  
"And I stand by that," he said. "You may defend yourself and retaliate if he insults you. Just do not go too far. On this journey we all need to stand together, and we cannot do that if the two of you are at each other's throats."  
  
Legolas looked up and met his gaze again, and his eyes held renewed hope and trust. Aragorn saw it with relief. He smiled.  
  
"Very well. At least, this gives me an excuse to relieve you from your chores for a few days, until you are recovered. See to it that you recover fast and as much as you can. Regain your strength. We shall need it!"  
  
Legolas could not help flinching at his master's words and at the small squeeze of his hurting flesh. He simply nodded and bowed his head obediently; and so he missed the brief flash of dismay at his reaction in his master's eyes.  
  
When he looked up again, Aragorn gave him a reassuring smile, then he let go of him and moved on. Legolas followed him. They had to hurry a bit to catch up with the others, who had gained quite some distance while they stood and talked.  
  
Neither of them saw the Dwarf who had stopped a little way ahead to watch their exchange, and who had not missed the flinch of pain the Elf showed whenever the Ranger touched his back. So the stupid, haughty Elf was injured, was he? And _still_ he had been arrogant enough to start on such a journey in his wounded state?  
  
No matter. Gimli son of Gloin did not know a lot about Elves, and he certainly was not interested in the reasons why this particular Elf should do such a thing, but he definitely planned to exploit it!  
  
  
_____________ o____________  
  
  
While he walked, Legolas continued to nibble absentmindedly at the wafer of _Lembas_ his master had given him. The small respite had done much to restore a little of his strength and the _Miruvor_ and nourishment did even more. But most of all he was heartened and reassured by Aragorn's concern and by his master's willingness to spare his strength and to defend him. It was good to know Estel still cared, that his absence in Elrond's study this morning had been just an oversight, a stupid accident, nothing more. That Aragorn's reassurances of this morning were more than just words. That even with the darkness and cruelty his master had shown to him last night, this was still Estel as he knew and trusted him, not some merciless and ruthless inner core of Aragorn revealed at last by the necessity of accepting his destiny, and who could not be bothered any more to keep his word to a mere slave, or even care about him.  
  
Still, it did not change his hurting back, the chafing of his quiver, and the pain every step caused him, and soon Legolas gave up on his musings and let himself slip back into a comfortable numbness, simply concentrating on each step as it came. The walk had led them through some open plain for a while, but now they were back within a copse of close standing trees, and Legolas allowed his mind to drift, aware of his surroundings just enough to make sure he was not stumbling over roots or running into trees.  
  
It was then that he was suddenly ripped out of his stupor by a hard, painful lash to his already hurting back and jumped forward with a startled yell. He whirled around, knives out, and found himself face to face with the Dwarf who was watching him with malevolently, glittering eyes.  
  
"Oh, sorry!" Gimli said, not in the least bothering to hide his satisfaction, "I did not see that twig! Clumsy of me!"  
  
Legolas looked briefly at the twig that had snapped back and hit him, injuring his back, then he regarded the Dwarf with a baleful look. Since Gimli stood behind him, and the twig had snapped back at him from that direction, there was not a trace of doubt that the attack had been deliberate. Still, he recalled Aragorn's warning words, and he could hardly kill or injure the Dwarf for a hurt back.  
  
So he simply swallowed his anger and pain and sheathed his knives again.  
  
"Very well, Master Dwarf," he haughtily replied, "I suggest you watch your way more closely then from now on, and pay more attention to your steps to avoid being mistaken for an Orc, or for clumsy game. But I can understand that for a Dwarf who is used to live in caves a long travel above ground and through the forests might be overly confusing. Still, you stem from the Lonely Mountain, do you not? I hear a lot of Dwarves there are known to have some traveling experience. Was there no _more experienced_ Dwarf to have for such a Quest, if the first day within a forest troubles you already?"  
  
The Dwarf growled at the insult and lunged for his axe, but before he could bring it out or Legolas could draw his knives again and drop into a fighting stance, two of the Hobbits and Boromir caught up with them.  
  
They saw the grim and angry faces of their two companions and looked startled. "Is something the matter, Master Elf?" one of the Hobbits asked- Merry, if Legolas' memory served him – and the other Hobbit frowned at the glowering Dwarf and asked a bit hesitantly: "Gimli?"  
  
Somewhat ashamed that he had nearly let himself provoke into an useless fight so soon after the start of the Quest, Legolas swallowed and straightened.  
  
"It is nothing, Master Hobbit," he replied politely, "just a small accident with a twig." And with that, he gave the Hobbits, the man of Gondor and the Dwarf a small bow and turned around, leaving quickly. He hurried to catch up with Gandalf, who was in the lead of the Fellowship, and took care to avoid Gimli's company for a while.  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
Gimli growled and muttered darkly to himself while he trudged on. The attack with the twig on the haughty Elf had been quite satisfying, and he was content with the results. Yes, the Elf was indeed injured. That was the reason, then, why he was so pale and grew exhausted so soon. Gimli was sure he could find ways to exploit this weakness; the stupid Elf would learn the folly of insulting one of Durin's line soon enough. Gimli had had quite enough of that specific family of Elves insulting and pushing his own line around, and he had a slight to avenge. Thranduil's son would learn the errors of his and his father's ways and regret ever crossing Gimli son of Gloin or his family.  
  
Yes, the attack with the twig had been quite satisfying, and the startled reaction of the Elven princeling had warmed his heart. But what the Elf had said...  
  
Gimli knew it had been meant merely as a comeback at his own jeering words, and the witless Elf had probably thought nothing more of it. He probably had forgotten the insults as soon as they left his mouth.  
  
But they _stung_.  
  
By necessity rather than by choice, Gimli's branch of Durin's line was indeed more experienced at traveling above ground than most other Dwarves could claim. Ever since Smaug the Dragon had expelled the Dwarves, among them Gimli's ancestors, from the Lonely Mountain, over 240 years ago, they had been exiled, forced to wander and to find their succor by settling as guests of other Dwarven colonies or selling their services as they could; even to humans if there were no other employers to have. Only after Thorin Oakenshield took the Lonely Mountain back from Smaug again some eighty years ago with the help of a Hobbit could they settle down in their own home again. Gimli himself was a Dwarf of many journeys, not by choice, but by cruel need. The haughty remark of the Elf had hit a truer blow than the flimsy creature could know.  
  
With grim determination Gimli swore to himself the Elf would pay for that.  
  
  
________________ o ___________  
  
  
\-- TBC--


	19. Trials And Nightmares

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Rape (In flashback only).   
_Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
______________________________________________  
  
  


**XVII. Trials And Nightmares**  
  
  
Legolas trudged on. He kept his mind carefully blank, just concentrating on each new step. He was so caught in his single minded occupation, that he was startled and jumped a little as suddenly a warm hand settled itself on his shoulder again. He looked up and found Aragorn beside him, staying his steps and calling him to rest. Astonished, he looked around and found that the others of the Fellowship discarded their packs already in the small clearing they had reached and the Hobbits in particular were busy gathering firewood and starting a fire.   
  
"We take a short rest here," Aragorn explained gently. "The Hobbits feel it is time for a meal. Try to recover your strength!"  
  
Legolas said nothing. He just nodded back at him and picked a spot to settle down. There he sank to his knees and took deep breaths, trying to fight the pain in his back and his exhaustion. He did not dare to sit or put weight on his thighs, because he knew it would hurt excruciatingly after the severe beating he had received last night.  
  
Aragorn squatted down beside him and handed him his water skin. Legolas took it gratefully and drank deeply. Then his master took the water back and handed him the flask with _Miruvor_ again.   
  
"Drink," he prompted gently, "you shall need it. Would you like another piece of _Lembas?_ "  
  
Gratefully, Legolas took a sip, then he handed the little flask back and shook his head."Thank you... Estel," he answered politely, "but no! I am afraid I could not keep it down right now."  
  
Aragorn looked at him, troubled and dismayed. Legolas took another couple of deep breaths and asked: "Could I have my pack back, please?"  
  
Puzzled, Aragorn handed it to him. Carefully, the Elf placed the pack on the ground, then leaned himself on it with one side to put as little weight as possible to his hurting back and rear. Aragorn lowered his head briefly.   
  
Finally, he settled himself beside his Elf and relieved himself of his pack and the two water skins. He began to rummage through their packs. Then he looked up, bemused, and asked in Silvain:   
  
"Where is the bundle with the toys, Little Leaf? I cannot find it in your pack!"  
  
Legolas' eyers flew open and he stared at his master with disbelief. Surely Aragorn could not mean to bring out those toys and use them _here?!_  
  
Aragorn saw his expression and flinched. Then he growled slightly exasperated: "I do not want to _use_ them now, I just want to know where you put them! _Really_ , Legolas..."  
  
He sincerely hoped his slave had not forgotten or refused to pack the toys. He did not care to punish Legolas again so soon after the last time, but he could hardly afford to ignore such a blatant disobedience of his orders, either.   
  
His slave flinched at his tone. "They are in my quiver, master," he said carefully in the same language. "I thought..."  
  
Aragorn looked back at him, startled. He was relieved that, after all, Legolas had packed the items he had commanded. Still... He paled a bit. "In your quiver? But the weight..."  
  
Legolas shrugged, then made a face as the small movement aggravated his already hurting back. "I did not care to pack them in a place where they could fall into the hands of a curious Hobbit," he explained.   
  
Aragorn jumped a little at the thought, then he shook his head. "Very well" he said. "Give them to me, Little Leaf."  
  
He saw the renewed fear and panic in his slave's eyes and had to force himself to fight down his exasperation. _For what did his slave take him? He should know him better after all..._  
  
Then he thought of what he had put his Elf through last night, and what he'd done this morning, and swallowed. "I just want to carry them myself," he explained. "You can not afford to aggravate your back with any more weight than is absolutely necessary for the next few days. I cannot relieve you from your weapons, Little Leaf, but I can certainly make sure they are not made heavier by an unnecessary burden!"  
  
Legolas looked at him in startled disbelief.  
  
"But... I thought--" he said.  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes. His face showed pain.  
  
"You thought _wrong_ ," he said quietly. "I did not wish to punish you further, and it wasn't deliberate. I have simply been an idiot. As Glorfindel took great care to remind me in no uncertain words and great detail this morning."  
  
Legolas kept his face carefully blank as he looked back at him. Aragorn was relieved to see a bit more alertness and interest back in his eyes. "My Lord Glorfindel called you that?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn rolled his eyes.  
  
"That and several other things, most of them even less flattering," he said. "I am sorry, Little Leaf. I should have been there, or made sure Glorfindel was there to guard you. I did not _think_."  
  
He sighed. "Please, forgive me!"  
  
Legolas looked at him, dumbfounded.  
  
"I... am alive, Estel," he said carefully. "Glorfindel came in time. And... it is not _my_ place to forgive... _you_ , My Lord! Nor are _you_ bound to apologize to _me_. You know that!"  
  
Aragorn looked back at him, sad and troubled.  
  
"Maybe not," he said. "Still I am sorry, Little Leaf." Then he looked away and shook his head. He sighed.  
  
"Now give me the bundle with the toys. Stop stalling!"  
  
Startled, but obedient, Legolas began to fumble with the straps of his harness. He made a face as even the small movement of the quiver as the first strap was loosened sent bolts of renewed pain through his back. In the next instant, Aragorn was close, kneeling half behind him, taking the weight off his quiver and taking it carefully from his back as the straps came loose. Then he gently and carefully removed it and settled himself beside his slave again. He handed Legolas the quiver so he could unpack it.  
  
Obediently, Legolas began to unpack the arrows and the bundle with his archer gear – spare strings, oil, feathers, glue and thread, whetstone and everything else needed to repair the bow and arrows or produce new fletchings – until he could fish out the small, but heavy bundle with the toys and hand it to his master. Aragorn nodded his thanks and shrugged out of his own quiver, beginning to unpack it in turn. Obviously, Legolas' idea of how to keep the bundle safe made sense to him.  
  
Legolas watched him for a moment, then he carefully began to repack his own quiver. He was still a bit dizzy, and his back still hurt, not to mention his thighs and rear, but the _Miruvor_ had restored a little of his strength again and both the familiar occupation and the reassuring and familiar sight of his master efficiently handling his own things did a lot to calm him. Still his mind was not at its usual speed. He supposed the walk had taken a greater toll on him that he had thought.  
  
Aragorn looked up. "How is your back?" he asked.   
  
Startled out of his thoughts Legolas replied carefully but honestly: "It hurts, Estel. But I can manage."   
  
Aragorn looked down again and bit his lips. "I will apply more of the salve to you in the evening," he promised. "And you won't have to take a watch tonight. It should be better in the morning."  
  
He looked for a moment as if he wanted to say more, but then he only shook his head and slipped his quiver back over his shoulders.   
  
They both started a bit when one of the Hobbits approached them. It was the one who had first demanded to accompany Frodo at the council and who kept mainly company with the pony, caring for all their gear. Sam, Legolas' brain provided after a moment.  
  
"Excuse me, Master Strider, Master Elf," the _Perian_ said, "but the meal is ready. Would you like some sausages?"   
  
Aragorn accepted the offered plate with a courteous nod and a smile, but Legolas shook his head. "Thank you, Master _Perian_ , but I am not hungry," he excused himself politely in flawless Common. "I will gladly give up my portion for another member of the Fellowship this time."  
  
Aragorn cast him a sharp look, and saw that his Elf was a bit green about the gills.  
  
Sam looked dismayed. "There is no need to call me 'master', Master Elf," he said nonetheless, blushing a bit, "my name is Sam, at your service. Would you like to have something else? Perhaps an apple?"  
  
Legolas looked back at him, astonished, and Aragorn smiled. "You will not get out of this that easily, _mellon(1)_ ," he said in Common, "refusing a meal is unthinkable for a Hobbit! It would be better if you just accepted, or he may think you are ill."  
  
Legolas cast him a startled look. _Was that an order?_ He saw Aragorn's concerned gaze and lowered his head. "I am not ill, Master Samwise," he offered, recalling the full name of the Hobbit as he heard it at the Council, "and I will gladly accept an apple, thank you!"  
  
The Hobbit seemed a bit mollified. "What does _'Perian'_ mean?" he suddenly asked curiously.   
  
Legolas looked back at him, a bit puzzled. "Excuse my oversight, Master Samwise. I forgot to keep to the Common tongue. Perian is an Elvish word for Hobbit," he explained. "It means Halfling in our tongue."  
  
He hesitated a bit, unsure if the Hobbit would feel the meaning of the word to be offensive, but Sam only smiled, obviously delighted. "Thank you, Master Elf! I will fetch you your apple in a moment," he promised.   
  
He turned to go. Aragorn stopped him and shook his head. "There is no need for that, Sam," he offered. "Legolas can have his apple from me; I keep a small store of my own. I think you should offer this plate to somebody else before it grows cold, instead."  
  
Samwise looked a bit dismayed, but just nodded and took off. Legolas was a bit ashamed that he had forgotten to offer his name to the Hobbit himself.   
  
He looked up and met his master's gaze. "He is right, you know," Aragorn said. "You should eat something more. I will give you that apple, and for now you'll have another piece of Lembas. Do not argue!" he warned, "You don't need to eat it all at once. But you need more nourishment right now, and you cannot afford to skip your meals. Just indulge me and obey!"  
  
Reluctantly, but obediently, Legolas took the offered apple and the other Lembas. He unwrapped the wafer and took a bite, rewrapping the rest and packing it into the pouch he kept at his belt. Then he used his hunting knife to slice the apple into several parts and stored most of them away for later likewise. Afterwards he obediently began to munch.  
  
Aragorn watched him for a moment, then he occupied himself with his own plate. Silently, he cursed himself again. Legolas seemed far too exhausted for his liking. But he knew he could not show more of his concern without alerting Gandalf and the others. The wizard had cast them troubled glances already. And they had still a long way to travel today. He would need to wait for the evening before he could see to Legolas' injuries again. Right now he could do nothing more for his slave but leave him alone.   
  
Finished with his plate, Aragorn looked up again and saw that Legolas was finished with his quiver. Quietly, he offered: "Let me help you put that on again."  
  
Legolas looked up at him, a bit startled. He had hoped he could stall putting the thing back on and give his back relief a few more moments; but if his master ordered it differently, he had to obey. Then he looked around and saw that the rest of the Fellowship had finished with their meals and were about to make ready for departure, too.  
  
He bit his lips and had to suppress a hiss when he shrugged back into his harness and Aragorn helped him to get the quiver back in place again; his back sent bolts of protest through his body, and the pain was hard to bear. Yet he managed. Aragorn laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and helped him ride it out for a moment, whispering quiet endearments and encouragements in Silvain. Then the quiver was back in place, and the Elf gave his master a grateful nod.   
  
Aragorn knelt before him and held him for a moment. "Be brave, Little Leaf," he offered. "It will be yet a few hours of travel until nightfall, but I am sure you can manage. Then you may rest. It will be better tomorrow. Be brave for me."  
  
He could not kiss his Elf openly in front of the others, so he just settled for squeezing his shoulders carefully, then he got up and helped his slave up, too.   
  
Legolas stood and bowed his head nearly imperceptibly to his master. Sam gathered the plates and stored them. Boromir killed the fire. The Fellowship moved on.  
  
  
________________ 0 _____________  
  
  
The Fellowship walked on for what seemed an endless time. Legolas had long given up paying attention to his back or even his surroundings. He was careful to stay aware just enough so he would not stumble or walk into something and stay close enough to the others, and he took care to keep the pain and exhaustion off his face. Otherwise, he was completely numb, caught in his own little world of suffering. He had trouble even staying awake. Images intruded in his waking mind, and he had trouble convincing himself that they were memories: of himself in his bonds, the pain when the whip hit his back again, his tormentor's cruel voice, ordering him to count, to beg for his punishment, for every new kind of cruel torture... He shook his head again, trying to shove the images away, but they kept coming.   
  
He remembered Elrond again, poised to strike, and his own desperate rage, the helpless feeling of betrayal, screaming inwardly for Estel, for his master to come and rescue him as he had promised. He heard Estel's voice again, just this morning: _'He will not touch you!'_ \-- but Estel had not been there. _He had not been there_.  
  
Other images crept up, from a time far further back. _Cruel hands grabbing him, forcing him to his knees. His own people, held back by drawn weapons, swords at his father's throat, the assembled warriors trembling with suppressed rage. Elrond smiling maliciously, looking down at him, coming closer..._  
  
He swallowed and fought to keep the images away.  
  
  
Legolas started as he was stopped again and found Aragorn back at his side. "Today's travel is over," his master said. "We will rest here."   
  
Too numb to react, Legolas for a moment just stared back at him. Then he managed to rise a bit from his stupor and nodded. He looked around. They had arrived at a little plateau, protected by a few bushes. There were no trees, but with his hurting rear he would not be able to sleep within one tonight anyway.   
  
Aragorn regarded him with some concern, then directed him gently to a place a little off to the side and in the cover of the bushes. He shrugged out of their packs, unrolled his blanket, placed one of the packs on it and invited: "Settle down, _mellon_. Rest a bit. I will see to everything."  
  
Wordlessly, too exhausted to object, Legolas obeyed.   
  
It took some time until Aragorn was back and by then Legolas had already managed to fumble out of his harness and place his bow and quiver beside him. The bow was still unstrung; he did not feel up to the task of stringing it just yet. While the Fellowship settled all around them, Aragorn squatted down beside his Elf.  
  
"I've taken the second watch tonight," he offered, "and will take care of firewood tomorrow. For now, I am free to see to you. Now, Little Leaf, get out of that tunic. Let me tend your back," he ordered in Silvain, rummaging through his pack and bringing out his medicines.   
  
Legolas nodded and obeyed. It took some effort to get out of his garb, and again he soon found his master at his side, carefully helping him. Getting the tunic off was bad enough, but getting out of the shirt proved to be extremely painful, and he had to swallow hard as the cloth came loose. Aragorn uttered a hiss and a quiet curse as he helped his Elf to get the shirt over his head. He cursed again as he saw the bloodstains on the cloth.  
  
He had been careful not to tear the skin last night, but obviously the constant chafing of the quiver on his slave's sore skin had done its own part to aggravate the welts, and there was one particularly angry welt that seemed quite deep and was seeping blood as he watched. Tersely he ordered: "Lie down. On your stomach!"  
  
The Elf obeyed, yet dared to utter a faint protest: "But, My Lord, the others--"  
  
Aragorn sighed and rolled his eyes. "Gimli is off to gather firewood. So is Boromir. The Hobbits are busy with preparing food and seeing to their gear. So I suggest you hurry up before they all are back and assemble around us!" he said dryly. "Now let me see to this!"  
  
He bit his lips again while he found a clean cloth and wetted it with water, then began carefully to cleanse the wounds and welts on the Elf's back. "You have been very brave today, Little Leaf," he murmured, while he worked. "I'm very proud of you!"  
  
Suddenly, a shadow fell over them and Aragorn looked up, caught and startled. It was Gandalf. His old eyes regarded the Elf's bruised back with horror and concern, and he gave a low hiss. "I asked myself already what was up with you today, young Thranduilion," he said, "You seemed in pain, but unwilling to let anybody close to you."   
  
He turned to Aragorn. "What happened to him?" he asked angrily.  
  
Aragorn considered his options. He knew he could not risk a fight with Mithrandir, especially not right now. So he settled for part of the truth. Grimly, he offered: "Elrond..."  
  
Gandalf hissed again. _"He promised!"_ he growled. "He promised me he would postpone Mirkwood's punishment and lift his ban, and let Legolas partake in the Quest instead! Never had I thought him so corrupted already that he would break his word!"  
  
Aragorn said nothing. He could feel Legolas shudder under his hand, and pressed warningly down on the body of his slave. Continuing to clean the welts and wounds on the sore back he finally offered: "Well, he did postpone the punishment, and he allowed Legolas to partake in the Quest. But he insisted on having him punished for gainsaying him during the trial."  
  
It was the truth, in a way; he just left out that he himself had been the one to mete out the cruel punishment. Mithrandir did not catch on to the deception.  
  
He sighed deeply. "This is grave news and an ill deed indeed," he said. "The Fellowship can ill afford it! Yet now I understand why you insisted on keeping Legolas free of all chores. What did you tell the others?"   
  
"I claimed a bet," Aragorn said. "We do not wish to let them know the truth. Please, Mithrandir, I must see to Legolas' injuries, and I have to do it undisturbed. Can you help us? It will just be a few days; usually, he heals fast."  
  
The wizard nodded. "I will keep them off your back, if I can," he said, "but Legolas, you need to be careful. The Hobbits are concerned about you already, and Gimli is muttering about you being relieved of your chores. Try to get well again, soon!"  
  
He knelt and placed a warm hand on the back of the Elf, giving him strength, and Legolas sighed with relief.  
  
"Thank you, Mithrandir," he said, "I will do what I can."  
  
"You do that," the old _Istar_ said, and Legolas could hear the smile in his voice. Then the wizard got up again. "See to his needs, Aragorn," he advised. "And hurry! Gimli and Boromir will be back soon!"  
  
Aragorn occupied himself with applying the healing salve, first to his slave's back, then, in the cover of his cloak, to his rear and thighs, and finally his insides. The cool salve soothed the inflamed flesh and did a lot to calm the pain. So did Estel's caring and his gentle touches. Still, Aragorn worked quickly, and to Legolas' relief he was finished when the Dwarf and the Adan came back.   
  
Legolas managed to keep a calm face during the evening, and even to partake in the meal, though he did not feel hungry. But he nibbled a bit at the porridge the Hobbit provided them with, and then gave the bigger portion over to another Hobbit when he thought his master wouldn't notice. Yet he was caught; when he turned back he found his master's eyes on him. At Aragorn's frown, he took out the remaining slices of the apple and munched them, and Aragorn nodded approvingly. Legolas sighed in relief. He noticed the Dwarf throwing him angry and baleful looks, but he was too exhausted to react to it. He was relieved as the Fellowship finally settled down.  
  
________________ o ______________  
  
  
// / _Legolas stood trembling but determined before the hostile Lord who had threatened his home, his family and his father. He knew what was to come would hurt immensely, and be sheer torture, and he was giving himself up to slavery; but it was the only way. The hostile Elves were too many, and too well armed, and their Lord had made it clear that they would kill all of Mirkwood down to the last child if his will was refused.  
  
And their own warriors could not hold out against Rivendell and its ally Lothlorien, and against the Shadow all at once.  
  
So he had begged his father to be allowed this sacrifice. And bereft of any alternative save certain death not only to himself and his last free son, but to all his people, Thranduil had finally accepted.  
  
He felt the guards closing in on him. Cruel hands grabbed him, forced him to his knees. His own people, too few to fight the greater host of Rivendell due to the arranged trap, stood apart, held back by drawn weapons and strung bows. The assembled Mirkwood warriors, bereft of their weapons already, were trembling with suppressed rage. His father was there, held by six Noldor guards, swords at his throat, frozen in mute horror. He tried to cast him a reassuring look, but could not meet his gaze. The hostile Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, smiled maliciously at him and came slowly closer... Fear claimed him, sweeping away his grim determination not to give his tormentors satisfaction by showing them his pain. He was barely aware that he had started to struggle and it took all the strength of the four guards to hold him down, but he felt the bruises forming on his skin, and the pain as they started to beat him.  
  
Then Elrond stood close before him and touched his hand to his forehead. A cold, fiery sensation burned itself into his brain, and cold, blue light was searing through his soul. Elrond began to chant, a cruel, cold sing-song of strange words he recognized vaguely as Quenya, and to his uttermost horror he found that he could not move anymore, was frozen in immobility. The searing light within his mind came closer, closer, and he tried to shy back, to recede, yet he couldn't. He was caught like a moth in the flame. The chanting continued, seemed to enclose him, filled his mind, his soul... Then he could feel again as his clothes were sliced and ripped from his body. Anew he tried to struggle, but he could not move. His legs were forced apart, and with utter horror he felt that he was breached, that something touched him, entered him, where he had never been touched and entered by anyone before.   
  
He screamed then, but the piercing thing impaling him did not recede, pressing further, and he thought that he would surely die from the pain, or from the burning shame... that the **thing** within him would go on and on and burst through his stomach... Still he could not move. He tried to flee his body then, to give it up and flee to Mandos, where his Mother had gone a long time ago, but he couldn't. He willed himself to fade, to lose consciousness, but he was caught by the blue light, and hauled back into his body. Suddenly he was all aware again, could feel the thing impaling him recede, then be replaced by fingers that were stretching, tormenting, rubbing something fiery and burning into his vulnerable flesh; and finally the fingers were replaced by a hard column of hot flesh, and with utter despair he realized that he could not even flee into death anymore....  
  
In utter horror and utter despair, Legolas screamed._ / //  
  
  
\-- He felt himself shaken by strong, but gentle hands, heard gently soothing words and suddenly he felt that he could move again. Tossing and turning, he struggled for a moment against the one who held him, desperate to get away, then finally reality set in and he realized that the voice addressing him with soothing words, the hands that held him fast, belonged to his master. " _Shhh_ , Little Leaf," Aragorn soothed, " _Shhh_ , all is well, you are safe... you are here... I am with you... calm down, Little Leaf, you will wake the others..."  
  
Aragorn held Legolas fast, trying to calm him before the whole Fellowship was alarmed. He was all too aware that it was probably too late to avoid that anyway, and they were lucky if any of the others had not yet been roused by Legolas' scream. But there was hardly any help for that. To his relief, finally, Legolas ceased to struggle and calmed down.   
  
  
He continued to soothe him in quiet, calming Sindarin, until he could hear Boromir's voice behind him. "What is it? What happened?!"  
  
The Gondorian had the first watch; but he had expected any danger to attack the Fellowship from outside the camp, not from within.  
  
Aragorn did not turn around. He concentrated on holding his Elf. He just shook his head. "It is nothing, Boromir," he said, "just a bad dream."  
  
Boromir let out a shuddering breath. "Must have been some dream," he said, "for him to scream like that. I thought we were attacked by one of the Nazgûl!"  
  
Aragorn snorted. "Those cries are nastier," he offered, and Boromir squatted down beside them.   
  
"I heard you have encountered them, too," the Gondorian offered. "I suppose, your Elf also had a run in with them?"   
  
Aragorn could feel Legolas in his arms slowly calming. "I _have_ encountered them before, Master Boromir," the melodic voice of the Elf answered. "Luckily, though, this dream was not about _them_."   
  
He tried to disentangle himself from his master, but Aragorn refused to let him go. Legolas gave in and submitted to being held.   
  
"I am sorry, Estel, Master Boromir," he offered. "It was a dream about the past. I will guard from now on against this kind of dream. It will not happen again."  
  
Behind them, another and more hostile voice snorted. "You better see to that, princeling," the Dwarf said scornfully, "if you can't take up any chores and need your human to protect you, you should at the very least see to it that you don't alert the enemy to our presence because you cannot even stand the dark!"  
  
Aragorn let go of Legolas and turned around, but before he could say anything, Gandalf interfered.  
  
"Hope that you never have cause to rouse your companions with the horrors of your dreams, Gimli, son of Gloin," he said gravely and harshly. "A fool is he who thinks himself proof against the horrors of the Enemy and the threats of his night terrors and darkness. You should respect your fellow warrior's plight, not make fun of him!"  
  
Legolas finally managed to shove the last traces of the dream away. He took a deep sigh.   
  
"Thank you for your kind words, Mithrandir," he said. "I'm sorry, Master Dwarf. I will try not to trouble you with my night terrors anymore, though I would not wish them on you even to see if you could stand them better. Rest assured that I will guard my dreams from now on."  
  
After another sigh he added to the assembled Fellowship in general: "I am sorry I have woken you."  
  
Aragorn turned back to him. "Shh, it is all right _mellon_. It can happen to anyone," he soothed. Legolas just closed his eyes and leaned against him.   
  
"Well, if this is all I suggest we go back to sleep for now," Gandalf interfered again. "We have a long day before us."   
  
Without further protest – save some muttered jibes from the Dwarf – the Fellowship settled back into their bedding. Aragorn settled himself beside his Elf again. "What was it, Little Leaf?" he asked quietly. "What did you dream of?"   
  
Legolas shook his head. He trembled still; he refused to recall the memory. "It was nothing," he lied. "Just a memory. Would you... would you ...hold me, please, Estel?" Somewhere within him, a nasty, harsh voice reminded him sneeringly that this was the very man who had hurt him yesterday and the hands that held him were the very hands that tortured him and caused the pain of his still hurting body, but the greater part of his soul insisted that this was, after all, _still Estel_ , and there was nobody else whom he could turn to. And he knew he could not stand the aftermath of the dream and the remainder of the night without him.   
  
His voice was pleading and hesitant, and Aragorn could do nothing else but give in.   
  
_At least, if his slave asked him to hold him, he had probably not dreamed of last night!_   
  
Allowing his Elf to snuggle close, he gathered him in his arms and held him tight. For a while, he continued to murmur soothingly, then, finally, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He only woke again when Boromir's watch was over and he shook the Ranger awake. Legolas turned to his side as Aragorn let go of him and pretended to be deep in Elven dreams.   
  
He did not dare to sleep again that night.  
  
  
__________________ o ________________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:   
  
(1) _mellon -- Sindarin:_ friend


	20. Dark Visions

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Torture (In flashback only).   
_Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
**XVIII. Dark Visions**  
  
  
In the morning, Aragorn rose early and roused his Elf as well. As soon as the growing light permitted, he tended to his slave's back and to his other injuries again. He made a face at the still angrily swollen welts, and shook his head.   
  
"You are healing much too slowly, Little Leaf," he chided quietly in Silvain. "Tell me, did you sleep at all last night?"   
  
Legolas shuddered. He shook his head.  
  
"I did not dare again after that dream," he said. "I am sorry, Estel."  
  
Aragorn said nothing. He concentrated on applying more of the salve. Finally, he asked carefully:  
  
"What was that dream about, Little Leaf?"  
  
Legolas shuddered again. "I'd rather not say," he dared to plead. "Please, Estel..."  
  
Aragorn was silent and Legolas tensed up, fearing a harsh command to speak or another punishment, but finally his master only shook his head.   
  
"It's all right, Little Leaf," he said regretfully. "I'm not sure I really want to know. But I think that I should take you again this evening."  
  
He felt Legolas' body freeze under his hands, felt his slave's sudden trembling, and he gave the shoulder under his fingers a small, gentle squeeze. "I know, Little Leaf," he said, "it will hurt you even more as sore as you are now. But I do not see another way to speed up the healing. We have not the time to let you rest for a few days, as you really needed."  
  
Legolas whole body tensed and he suppressed a sob. Everything within him screamed: _'Valar, please, no!'_ , yet he did not dare to say it. In his current state, being taken again would be sheer torture for his hurting buttocks and his inflamed flesh. He tried forcefully to calm himself, but he just couldn't.   
  
"I am sorry, master," he finally managed to say, "I am not sure if I can bear it... so soon after... I just--"   
He stopped. With deep, deliberate breaths he calmed himself. With effort he finally managed to say: "Forgive me, master. I will try to adjust to it if it is your wish." He thought he would choke on the words. Inwardly he screamed. _**'Please, Estel, no!!! Not yet!!!'**_ \-- but he did not dare to say it.  
  
Trembling in fear he tensed up, waiting for his master's blow, for another painful punishment...  
  
Aragorn's hand never left his shoulder, and it never stopped the gentle pressure that told him to stay down. There were no blows and no new, harsh judgment.  
  
Aragorn looked down at him, sad and disturbed. It pained him that his slave – that Legolas – had left so little trust in him. Yet he had not given him much reason to feel otherwise these last few days, had he?  
  
For a few moments he was just too dismayed to find an answer. Then he finally bowed down and placed a tender kiss on the shivering shoulder of his Elf.  
  
"Very well, Little Leaf," he gently said. "We will give it another day. But if you haven't healed more by tomorrow, I'll need to fill you with my essence again. It'll be the best we can do to help you heal under the circumstances, even if it may at first hurt you more. But I hope you will be better tomorrow anyway."  
  
He continued to apply the healing salve with gentle hands. "Do not fear!" he murmured soothingly. "Today will be hard on you again, but now that Gandalf knows your plight, hopefully today's march will be shorter. Try not to exhaust yourself too much. We will call a rest again around midday, and with any luck, our way today won't be too taxing for you."  
  
Legolas tried to let himself be soothed by the gentle touches and the familiar murmuring, but it did not seem to work as well as he was used to. Somewhere, deep in his mind, something hesitated to trust the soothing words and just trembled in fear. _'Why, Estel?'_ he inwardly pleaded. _'Why did you have to bring me to a point where I cannot even find comfort in your touch anymore?'_ \-- But he could not say that aloud, and he did not dare to show his bleak mood and his desperation.   
  
At the moment Aragorn's mood seemed concerned and gentle.  
  
He had no idea, though, how long his master's indulgent mood would last.  
  
  
________________- o ________________  
  
  
It was a hard day again for Legolas. Not only was he still easily exhausted but his sore and swollen back still hurt under the chafing quiver, not to mention his thighs and rear and even his still healing passage. He also found that he had trouble staying awake. Normally, as an Elf, he would have been able to forgo sleep for days at a time without ill effect, but right now his body was injured and in dire need of healing. And his mind was still troubled and overtaxed.   
  
But while it took him great effort to stay awake and aware enough of his surroundings that he could at least safely keep walking, he found it equally impossible to let his mind drift in relaxing Elven dreams. Unwelcome disturbing images invaded his thoughts relentlessly, whether he was allowing himself to drift, or whether he tried to stay awake and banish them.   
  
Memories were assaulting him, memories not of events long in the past, but just too recent.  
  
_// / He saw himself in his bonds again, struggling and wriggling, heard the harsh voice of his master, forbidding him to speak, to beg, to make any noise... He felt the whip come down on his unprotected back again, leaving lines of fire as it burned itself into his flesh. He felt the strain of his bonds, his own weight tugging at his overstretched shoulders... and there was Estel, **Estel** , ordering him to count, to thank him for the pain, to beg him for another, harsher torture...  
  
He fought the urge to scream again, to beg for mercy, beg to stop this torture or at least to give him the time he needed to adjust; but he had been commanded to silence, and he nearly choked on the suppressed tears, the swallowed words. And still the torture went on mercilessly-- / //_  
  
\-- Legolas shook his head as if that would help him to block out the images. He tried to force them out, to shove them away; he tried to tell himself that this was in the past, that it was _**done**_ ; they were now safely away from Rivendell, and Estel would not soon hurt him like that again.   
  
And it had been about survival, had it not? Elrond's cruel attempt to find an excuse to kill him yesterday morning had been proof of that.  
  
\-- But then he heard again his master's promise to protect him, to keep him safe from Elrond; that he would make sure Elrond would not touch him; and he saw again Elrond poised to strike, and Estel was not there. And he stood there again, frozen in helpless rage, in despair and in fear, waiting for the blow that would seal his fate. Facing Elrond alone. Estel had not been there.  
  
_He had not been there_.  
  
If Glorfindel had not rescued him, he would have died there, or soon afterwards, and all the cruelty Aragorn put him through the night before would have been for nothing.   
  
No, not for _nothing_ ; it would have served at least one purpose: it served Aragorn's pleasure. Aragorn, who had more pressing and more enjoyable things to do while Elrond checked on Legolas, and who could not be bothered to keep his promise, only just given to his slave. His slave who had been simple enough and stupid enough to believe him.  
  
\-- Legolas shook his head again and fought the images away with effort. He shook in desperation. _**It was not true!!!**_ It had just been a mistake, a stupid oversight; Estel had not believed Elrond would go that far. Valar, even _Glorfindel_ had not believed Elrond would go that far and had not thought it necessary to shadow him! 

And Estel regretted his mistake; he had even _**apologized!**_ Something he certainly was not required to do towards his slave. They were away from Rivendell, hopefully never to return, and Estel would hold to his promise from now. He had _**sworn**_ it!  
  
And yet there was a nasty, persistent voice in the back of his mind, insisting:  
  
_'He did betray you once. Broke his promise. How do you know he won't do it again? If something else catches his eyes and he finds himself too occupied to bother about his slave... and after all, why should he bother about you in the first place? You are just his **slave**! He is not required to answer to you about **anything!** '_   
  
Trembling and pale, Legolas tried to clear his thoughts again, to expel that foreign voice, and silence the despair and doubts that tore him to his core. It took great effort to merely trudge on, as he was tempted to cover his ears as if that could block out his inner monologue. He tried to tell himself that Aragorn would never do that. He recalled better memories; their tender lovemaking only a few days before. The carefree tickling match of the council morning. The way Aragorn had trusted him without question, had reassured him, had defended him against Erestor and later against Elrond himself. The way his master had held him afterwards while he was overwhelmed by despair at Elrond's judgment and the threat that loomed over his sister.   
  
He reminded himself that even now, Aragorn carried both their packs for no other reason but to give his slave relief.  
  
Still, the bleak thoughts and painful images kept intruding and he could not completely banish them from his mind as much as he tried.  
  
He was so completely preoccupied by his inner struggle that he jumped as suddenly somebody was beside him and placed a gentle hand upon his arm. He looked up and regarded the familiar form of his master.  
  
"Legolas, what is it?" Aragorn asked concerned and gave his arm a little squeeze.  
  
Legolas could not help himself. He flinched away from his master's touch. The reaction was so visceral, so automatic, that he did not even register what he did before it was too late.   
  
In the next moment, he realized what he had done and he paled. Yet it was too late. Aragorn let go of him and took a step back, hurt and dismay flashing through his eyes. Legolas saw his expression crumble, and it hurt his soul.  
  
"I'm sorry, master, I didn't mean..." he stammered in Silvain. Then he caught himself and added in Sindarin: "I am sorry, Estel. I was... lost in my thoughts. You just startled me." He swallowed. "Please forgive me!"  
  
He remembered in the last moment to swallow the 'master', and his own voice sounded all too fearful and pleading in his own ears.   
  
He could see that Aragorn didn't believe his explanation for a moment. Inwardly, he wanted to scream. _'Estel!'_ a voice inside him cried, begged his master to _hold him, help him, reassure him, keep away the hurting memories and nagging doubts..._  
  
Yet his voice died in his mouth and he felt himself at a loss to explain what was happening to him.  
  
Aragorn regarded him with muted pain. "It is all right, _mellon_ ," he finally offered in Sindarin. "I'm sorry I startled you."   
  
Very carefully he reached out with his hand again, and this time, Legolas managed to stay calm under his touch albeit it took him quite some effort and he could not suppress a slight trembling. Aragorn's hand closed a bit too tightly around his arm, and he flinched again.   
  
He hung his head. "I am sorry, Estel," he said, "I... seem to have trouble staying awake."   
  
This was closer to the truth and had the desired effect, because Aragorn accepted the offered explanation without question. He shook his head and swallowed hard.  
  
"The Fellowship will stop soon," he offered, "in just another hour or so we'll reach the brook that runs here. You remember? As soon as we will reach it, we will rest for a while."  
  
His hand trailed upwards and settled on his slave's shoulder. More quietly he added: "Think nothing of it, Little Leaf. You are not well right now, and you hardly slept last night. No wonder that you tend to fall asleep on your feet. Hopefully, you'll find better rest tonight and can restore your strength. Tomorrow, things will look better."  
  
Legolas looked up and met his gaze again. The cynical voice inside his head snorted derisively. Legolas ignored it. He forced the voice away and decided to trust.   
  
Very hesitantly, he offered:   
  
"I... keep seeing things, Estel. Memories." He bit his lips. "I do not know how to guard against them."  
  
Aragorn's eyes widened for a moment, then his expression hardened, and Legolas shrank a bit into himself again. "I-- I didn't mean--"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Do not fear, Little Leaf," he said tiredly. "I am afraid I know all too well of what you speak."  
  
He looked away. "It is the Ring, I think," he said. "I was afraid this would happen, although I did not expect it so soon. I am afraid it tried to prey on me when I was traveling with the Hobbits from Bree."  
  
He hung his head again. _'And in your case, melethron, I suppose it has a lot of very bad memories right now to use against us'_ he added in his thoughts. _'I cleverly made sure of that!'_ But he did not say that aloud. How could he blame his slave for being vulnerable to the fear and hurt he himself had instilled in him?  
  
Yet Legolas looked back at him with renewed hope. "Do you really think so, Estel?" he asked. "I.. was not aware..." He took a deep breath, then he breathed out again. "My Lord Glorfindel warned me against this. I will try to close my mind to it from now on."  
  
For some strange reason, he seemed relieved, as if a great burden had suddenly left his soul. Aragorn looked back at him, a bit puzzled.  
  
"Try not to let it hurt you, Little Leaf," he finally said. "You are weakened right now and it will try to prey on that. Hopefully, in a few days when you are better, it will be easier for you to close it out."  
  
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but then he just shook his head again, gave his Elf's shoulder another reassuring squeeze and trudged on.  
  
Legolas glanced after him. He gathered his thoughts. _**The Ring?!**_ That would make sense. Glorfindel had warned him against this. It was a comforting thought.  
  
Still...  
  
He looked down the trail they were following, and for the first time in hours he truly registered his surroundings. He looked ahead and for his Elven eyes it was not hard to spy the brook his master had mentioned in the far distance.  
  
He looked down to his feet again.   
  
The brook looked impossibly far away. Normally, he would have considered it to be in easy distance, and the walk would have been as nothing to his mind. But as it was, right now, with nearly every part of his body hurting and heavy with weariness, the distance seemed disturbingly far to him.  
  
With grim determination not to let himself be overwhelmed by his bleak thoughts, he started to walk again, and this time, he indeed managed to close his mind to the prying doubts and images.  
  
__________________ o _______________  
  
  
The promised rest was slow in coming, and as the Fellowship finally reached the brook, Legolas sank down on the first lush, green spot he could find, grateful for the respite. Again, he carefully placed himself on his side, meticulously avoiding putting weight on his sore rear and thighs. And again he politely declined the offered meal, preferring to nibble at the piece of _Lembas_ Aragorn offered.   
  
He knew he could not keep this up; not only was the small supply of _Lembas_ Aragorn had brought rapidly running out, even more his rejection of Sam's carefully prepared food was starting to offend the Hobbits. He resolved to make it up to them as soon as he was able, and to make a point of eating something of Sam's cooking in the evening. But at the moment the mere thought of roasted sausages and potatoes made his stomach churn, and the inescapable smell of the grilled flesh did nothing to appease it, either.  
  
Had he been better, he would have taken the chance to wash himself, maybe even to bathe, but as it was, he hardly made it to the edge of the water; not to mention that he could ill afford to let the others of the Fellowship see his bruises. It was Aragorn who took it upon himself to refill both their water skins and who made sure he had a drink. His master also forced him to accept another apple, and as Legolas slowly munched the slices under his watchful eyes, he had to admit that they indeed made him feel a little better.   
  
So he simply contented himself to lie about, too tired even to rise to Gimli's scornful mutterings about _lazy Elves who skipped all chores and left them to their comrades_ and _weak Elven princelings who could not even stand a hard day's walk or the dark of night_. He did not even react to the sneering comment of the Dwarf at his refusal of the meal that the portion was better suited to feed somebody who made himself useful to the others anyway. And he also ignored the whispering of the Hobbits, who sat together and shot shy and curious glances in his direction from time to time.  
  
As strengthening as the rest proved to be, it was over all too soon, and Legolas found himself trudging on much sooner that he would have preferred. At least the visions were gone for now, but he had still trouble staying awake, and had constantly to fight against his exhaustion.   
  
So he was not too happy when after a while the man of Gondor approached him to start a conversation.  
  
"You seem weary, Master Elf," the _Adan_ offered, "and you do not seem too well. Did you sleep at all last night?"  
  
Legolas gave the Gondorian an astonished look. Still, the tone had not been hostile, like the sneers of the _Nogoth_ , but merely inquiring.  
  
So he decided to answer politely.  
  
"Not much," he offered reluctantly. "I owe you an apology, Master Boromir. I did not mean to alarm you needlessly while it was your watch. Rest assured that I will guard my dreams from now, so this will not happen again."  
  
The man of Gondor looked a bit abashed. "No apology is needed," he hurried to say. "It must have been a fearsome dream to make you scream like that! You said it was about a memory. I suppose it must have been very bad."  
  
Legolas just looked at him. He raised a brow. "It was," he said.   
  
He didn't elaborate. Boromir waited a few more moments; when it became clear that no further explanation was forthcoming, he tried again.  
  
"We have men in Gondor who encountered the Nazgûl close up and fell victim to their Black Breath. They are caught in nightmares and cannot wake up. I heard them screaming in their sleep like you."  
  
Legolas face betrayed nothing, yet he was startled. _It had been that bad?!_ He was very aware that Boromir was waiting for an answer. After a while he said: "I have fought against the Nazgûl in my home."   
  
He did not say that it had been some time ago – about eighty years, as mortals counted them – when he last had fought under the trees of _Eryn Galen_ , now called _Taur-nu-Fuin(1)_ ; that was something the Gondorian could not know, and the Elf supposed it wold probably somewhat lessen the impact of his deeds on the _Adan_ if the mortal realized that they had happened long before Boromir had even been born.  
  
Since the mortal still looked at him expectantly, he finally added: "But my dream last night was not about them. It was about another memory."  
  
Boromir looked at him. "It must have been a bad one if it made you scream like that," he finally prodded.  
  
Legolas made a face. "Very bad," he said.   
  
Then, after a moment, he decided to offer more. At least the Gondorian was making an effort! And he did not seem inclined to let the issue go. So he offered somewhat reluctantly: "I relived a time when I found myself in the hands of our enemies..."  
  
He did not elaborate. Let Boromir come to his own conclusions; he did not need to know that the enemy in question had been hostile Elves, not Orcs. As he had expected, the Gondorian paled and looked back at him with new respect.  
  
Boromir swallowed. He knew only too well what happened to those of his men unlucky enough to fall into the hands of Orcs alive, and he did not think that those beasts treated Elves any better. If this was indeed what the Mirkwood Elf talked about, then he had been lucky to escape more or less unscathed. Or indeed lucky to escape at all!  
  
A little hesitantly he offered: "I can imagine that would give one nightmares." Then, after a few moments, he added: "I have seen some men who survived being taken by the Corsais of Umbar, or the men of Harad, and who were freed by our soldiers later. They had nightmares, too." He raised a brow. "I have seen no one, though, who escaped capture by the Orcs alive. You must have been lucky."  
  
The Elf looked away. He seemed unwilling to explain further.  
  
Boromir began to feel frustrated. Still, he deemed it better to learn more about his unfamiliar companion, especially since the Elf seemed so close to that Ranger who claimed being the heir to Gondor's long vacant throne. So he patiently tried again:  
  
"I did not know the Nazgûl harassed other countries, too, until just recently. We have fought them in Gondor for nearly eighty years, but I did not know they roamed elsewhere ever since the evil realm of Angmar fell."  
  
Legolas looked at him.  
  
"You've heard Estel's tale at the Council," he said, "and the tale of the Dwarves! The Black Riders--"  
  
Boromir raised a brow. "I meant, I did not know they roamed elsewhere before they started those activities. Estel – I suppose that's your Ranger?"  
  
Legolas merely raised a brow. " _'My'_ Ranger?" he returned. Inwardly he shivered. Had their deception already been found out?  
  
Boromir rolled his eyes. "Come on, Master Elf, it is clear that the two of you are more than just comrades!" he said.  
  
Legolas looked away.  
  
"Maybe," he said. "We have been... together for a long time."   
  
Again he did not bother to elaborate. Let the Gondorian draw his own conclusions.  
  
Boromir just nodded.  
  
"Is that the reason why you defended him at the Council?" he asked.   
  
Legolas did not reply for a long moment Normally, he would not have hesitated. But as it was now...  
  
"I defended him because he _deserved_ it, Master Boromir," he finally replied, although the words seemed bitter in his mouth.   
  
Boromir sighed. He had not planned to end up in another confrontation with the Elf so soon. He raised his hands in a placating way. "I did not mean to offend," he offered. "So, Aragorn is Estel?"  
  
Legolas was silent for a moment. It took some effort to let his sudden anger go. Yet to his surprise he found he _wanted_ to continue the conversation. It served to distract him from his hurting body and his weariness quite effectively, and it also served to keep the painful visions and images away.  
  
"No offense has been taken," he finally allowed. "Yes, Aragorn is Estel. It was a name the Elves gave to him in his youth. And he is also 'Strider', as the Hobbits call him, and he used to be known under a few other names besides."  
  
Boromir snorted. "In Gondor, it would be seen as somewhat less than honorable to hide under different names," he observed.  
  
Legolas did not rise to the challenge. _Let Aragorn fight his own battles this once!_ Aloud, he just mildly reminded: "Gandalf, whom we Elves call Mithrandir, is known under a lot of names, too."  
  
Boromir actually snorted. "Well parried, Master Elf," he said. "Yes, I admit Mithrandir wears a lot of names, too. Not that this fact would serve to endear him to my father!"  
  
He was silent for a while, then he decided to go back to his first question.  
  
"So, the Nazgûl have attacked your home, too?" he asked.   
  
Legolas looked to his feet again. _True, the man of Gondor could not know how painful this subject was. Still..._  
  
"They have done so for a long time, now," he said. "They were in the service of the Necromancer, who besieged my wood. In fact, when Dol-Guldur was first taken by evil, my people believed that the Necromancer was one of the Nine. Only later we learned it was Sauron himself who dwelt there. The Nazgûl have harassed us and led his creatures against us for centuries, until he fled to Mordor after Dol-Guldur was attacked eighty years ago. Then, shortly afterwards, he sent them back to retake his stronghold in our wood, and my people have fought his servants again ever since. We... know them well."  
  
It sounded very bitter, and it was the truth; he just left out that he himself had fought the Ringwraiths during the last eighty years only in Aragorn's company and rather in Gondor than in his own wood. But in a way, those were minor details. He remembered all too well how it felt to fight the terror of the _Ulairi_ under the dark trees and endure their piercing scream, and how hard it was even for Elven warriors to shake off the shadow their closeness brought.  
  
Boromir pursed his lips and regarded the Elf beside him with growing respect. "Then you come from a realm that is encumbered by the shadow and constantly besieged by his creatures, too," he stated. "We have more in common than I thought!"  
  
Legolas looked at him. "How so?"  
  
A bit exasperated, Boromir explained: "You, too, come from a realm besieged by Sauron's forces and losing warriors in the fight against him every day. You, too, are your father's heir--"  
  
Legolas looked away. "I'm not my father's heir," he said. He fought hard to keep the sudden bitterness out of his voice.  
  
Boromir looked at him without comprehension."But—you said--"  
  
Legolas shook his head. How to explain this? After all, he could hardly tell the truth. Finally he said:  
  
"I am only my father's youngest son. And he is immortal. I do not look forward to a time when I – or any of his heirs – would eventually need to take over his rule."  
  
Boromir raised his brows, struggling to understand the concept. "So, you don't _want_ to rule yourself?" he asked.  
  
Legolas stared blankly back at him. He could not say that he would never rule even if Thranduil and both of the King's older sons were to die. Finally he said somewhat coldly: "For me to come to take up my father's rule would mean that he and everyone who came before me in the line of heirs would be already dead, and if it came to that, my home probably would have been overrun or destroyed. _**Of course**_ I do not wish to rule my father's realm myself!"   
  
Boromir was taken aback. The pain and bitterness of the Elf surprised him, and he felt unreasonably attacked. still, if the Elf put it that way...  
  
Somewhat coolly he answered: "There is no need to grow angry, Master Elf. I just have trouble grasping the concept of being immortal. Of course I do not look forward to my father's death, but one day it will inevitably happen, and for me, it will be my honor as well as my duty then to take up his rule."  
  
Legolas held his gaze a moment, then he nodded in acknowledgment. "I see, Master Boromir," he said. "Please forgive my harshness; it was uncalled for."  
  
Boromir raised a brow, but nodded back.  
  
Finally he decided to shift the conversation to a less sensitive theme.  
  
"You have older brothers?"  
  
Legolas looked down. There was no way he could explain this to Boromir without giving himself away.   
  
So he merely said: "Yes, I have. Two of them to be precise." He did not explain that he had never met the oldest one and the other one had been taken away from him and enslaved when Legolas was ten, a very early age for an Elf.  
  
Boromir smiled. "I have a younger brother," he said, "Faramir. He would give a lot to be in my place right now."  
  
Gratefully, Legolas accepted the distraction from his lingering bleak thoughts. "How so?" he asked curiously.   
  
Boromir grinned indulgently to himself.   
  
"Faramir is a born scholar! He is fascinated by all things elvish and by Elves, though he never met one. He would be delighted if he could spend the time of this Quest to pester you relentlessly about your people and your home."  
  
Legolas could not help himself; he snorted, genuinely amused. But suddenly, he misstepped as his foot got entangled in a hole, and he had to shift and turn quite suddenly to regain his balance. The sudden movement let his quiver shift position on his back and strained numbed muscles, and he stopped and paled at the sudden pain that surged through his body.  
  
For a moment, Legolas had to stop. He hissed and grimaced, fighting down the pain and his suddenly swimming vision. When he could see clearly again, he found Boromir's concerned gaze on his face.   
  
"So you _are_ injured," the man of Gondor said. "Now I understand Gimli's earlier words! How does it come about that you embark on such a Quest with a severe injury?"  
  
Legolas gritted his teeth. "It's a long story," he said coolly. "But we Elves heal fast. I can assure you it will only take me a few days and won't even hamper me in a fight, should it come to that."  
  
Boromir regarded him with a mixture of exasperation and concern. "I have walked on injuries before," he offered. "Sometimes, there simply is no other choice. Is that the reason why your Ranger insists on carrying both your packs and keeping you free of chores?"  
  
Legolas just looked at him for a few moments. Then he just nodded, grateful for the _Adan's_ simple acceptance.   
  
Boromir sighed. "I did not think that explanation with the bet was too convincing," he said. "You did not look like someone who was gloating at your victory and your comrade's misfortune, but rather as if you desperately needed the relief. He must be very close to you indeed to do this for you."  
  
Legolas looked down. "He is," he carefully said, "and were he the one injured I would not hesitate to do as much for him."  
  
It was the truth, in spite of everything. Even without the fact that his very life depended on Estel's health he would not think twice of doing everything in his power -- and indeed, _had done_ everything in his power in the past – to ease his suffering.   
  
As Aragorn had always done for him, save at the very times when it was _him_ who made Legolas suffer.  
  
Legolas thought he would tear apart inside at his conflicting feelings.   
  
He looked up again. "Thank you, Master Boromir, for your acceptance. I was afraid you would react angrily, as that Dwarf did when he learned that I am currently not at my best," he said seriously. "But I would thank you not to tell the Hobbits. I do not wish for pity."  
  
Boromir snorted. "Too late for that," he said, "the Halflings are very observant. They were the ones who gave me the idea. But do not fear," he continued quickly as he saw Legolas' dismay, "there is no-one here who will not gladly give you time to heal, except perhaps the Dwarf."  
  
Legolas took a deep sigh. Shaking his head he looked forward down their trail, saw that the others of their company had gained quite some distance, and gave the _Adan_ a small nod to indicate they should start to walk again. Aloud, he simply offered: "Thank you. You are gracious."  
  
Boromir accepted his thanks with a simple nod and followed his example.   
  
While he walked on, he curiously asked: "What is it with you and the Dwarf, anyway? I admit I hadn't met either of your people before I came to Rivendell. Why are the two of you constantly at each other's throats like that?"  
  
"Constantly?" Legolas asked back, "It was not _I_ , who--"  
  
Boromir merely raised a brow, and Legolas remembered that the Gondorian had come up on him and Gimli ready to draw weapons at each other just the other day.  
  
"Our people do not get along too well," he finally offered.   
  
Boromir snorted. "That much was evident!" he said with humor. "Yet what I do not really understand is why it would be so. The Dwarves seemed friendly enough with the Elves of Rivendell--"  
  
Legolas' features darkened and he said nothing for a while. Finally he forced himself to answer. The Gondorian could not know how painful this issue was, after all, and had meant no offense.  
  
"The Elves of Rivendell are mostly Noldor. They like to craft gems and iron like the Dwarves. _I_ am an Elf of the Woods. _We_ appreciate living things," he merely said. "The enmity between our people reaches far back. A long time ago, in the First Age, Dwarves slew our greatest king. It's a long story."  
  
After a moment, he added reluctantly: "But in the case of that special _Nogoth_ , there is also family history between us."  
  
Boromir looked at him, cocking his head. "How so?" he said.  
  
Legolas raised a brow.  
  
"My father imprisoned his father when he was trespassing in our woods," he dryly said. "It was mentioned at the council when Gandalf told the story how the Ring was found. Don't you remember?"  
  
Boromir looked a bit indignant, but also slightly sheepish.  
  
"I am afraid I was preoccupied with other things," he offered. "At least now I can understand why he does not like you."  
  
Legolas quirked a brow at him. "I noticed," he offered wryly. Then he shook his head, looked down their trail and sighed.   
  
"Look," he said, "the others have gained quite a headstart on us. As pleasant as this conversation is, I think that we should hurry to keep up."   
  
Boromir looked shrewdly at him, then he nodded. He could well imagine that the Elf was taxed a bit if he was injured. With some amusement he said:  
  
"Then we should do so. I think it is another hour or two until we make camp. We may continue to talk in the evening, if you are willing."  
  
Legolas gave him a polite nod. He doubted very much that in the evening he would feel up to any more than a short meal and sleep, but he didn't say that.  
  
Boromir nodded back at him. In mutual agreement, the Elf and the Adan walked on in fast strides and without further conversation.  
  
______________________ o _____________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:   
  
(1)  _Eryn Galen-- Sindarin_ : Greenwood. The old name of Mirkwood before it fell under the Shadow. _Taur-Nu-Fuin (Sindarin_ : Forest under the Nightshade), is a Sindarin translation of the name Mirkwood.


	21. Resolution

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : None.  
 _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XIX. Resolution**  
  
  
In the evening, Legolas made good on his resolve to eat a greater portion of the meal the Hobbit Sam provided, and as he had assumed, his weariness caught up with him soon afterwards. He did not feel up to another conversation with Boromir or with any other member of the Fellowship. So he excused himself as soon as he could and retired to his bedding. It was later, when the light was less and most of the Fellowship had retired, that Aragorn shook him awake to tend to his injuries again.  
  
While his master gently applied salve to his back and rear, he asked casually: "I saw you had quite a long talk with Boromir today."  
  
Legolas could not help it; he tensed up. Would he now be punished for this? Would Aragorn be jealous?  
  
Aragorn felt his sudden tension under his touch and sighed. "You are _not_ forbidden to speak here, Little Leaf," he said. "We are not in Rivendell anymore. I have _never_ forbidden you to speak without permission outside of Rivendell, or of Lothlorien, save at some rare, special occasions, and then with very good reason. You _know_ that."  
  
Legolas bit his lips. Of course. Still, he could not help fearing his master's mood might change.  
  
Very carefully he said: "I'm sorry, Estel. Thank you."  
  
Aragorn was silent for a moment. Then he started to apply the salve again. Casually, he asked: "So, what did you tell him?"  
  
He felt his slave shudder under his hands and bowed his head. This was harder than he had thought. He waited patiently. Finally, Legolas answered: "Not much. He had guessed I was injured, so I acknowledged that. And he had also guessed that we are.. lovers. So I acknowledged that, too."  
  
Aragorn quirked a brow. "And that was all?" he asked.  
  
Legolas shrugged, then stopped half-way through the movement and hissed. He felt his master's hand on him, giving him support through the pain, and felt a burst of warmth. _Estel..._ then the warmth was swallowed up by bitterness, and he wanted to scream.  
  
"He wanted to know a lot about my home, and about Elves and Dwarves," he offered. "I told him what I could, which is not much, anyway."  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I can imagine," he said. "It is well that you try to become his friend. I think the best we can do is to knit this Fellowship fast and close together, so that if they ever learn the truth, it won't matter anymore. And they will probably learn the truth if we go through Lothlorien."  
  
Legolas flinched. "Do... will we have to do that?" he asked alarmed.  
  
Aragorn hesitated again. "I do not know, Little Leaf," he said. "Two days ago, I was counting on it. By now I'm not so sure. It was hard enough to get the Ring out of Rivendell again without Elrond taking it. Imagine what temptation it will be for the Lady of the Wood!"  
  
Legolas trembled. "But... if we go that way.... the others will learn--"  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Yes. But do not fear. I will talk to Gandalf tomorrow. Maybe I can convince him to take our chances with the Gap of Rohan," he said. "And in any case, as soon as we come into a fight and have to stand together, your status won't matter anymore. We have seen it before among my Rangers."  
  
Legolas did not answer. He did not think he could bring out a sound through the lump he felt in his throat.  
  
So he suffered through his master's gentle ministrations in silence and was grateful that Aragorn did not require him to say anything more.  
  
  
____________________ o ______________  
  
  
Aragorn walked the perimeter of the camp, looking around to make sure there weren't any dangers. They were just two days from Rivendell, but still they could hardly afford to lower their guard. The Fellowship was sleeping, and the small fire they had dared to build this close to Rivendell was nearly dead. There was no hint of anything amiss, no hint of danger. All was quiet, except the soft noises of the night and the deep breaths of his sleeping comrades and the soft but persistent snoring of the Dwarf.  
  
Yet suddenly he heard a faint noise, small but as unsettling as persistent: a quiet, helpless whimper.  
  
He looked at first to the Hobbits. He knew Frodo was haunted by nightmares; he had been ever since Aragorn met the four Halflings in Bree, and the close encounter at Amon Sûl had just made it worse. But the Ring Bearer was not sleeping at all. He just sat up and Aragorn met his inquiring gaze.  
  
Frodo slipped out of his bedding, careful not to wake Sam. The whimper continued, and Aragorn heard a few nearly unintelligible words in Sindarin amongst it. He cursed inwardly. _Legolas!_ Within the whimper he could now discern his own name: _"Estel..."_  
  
He looked to his Elf and saw him toss around in his dreams. Legolas' eyes were closed. Healing sleep, Aragorn knew, although it still felt unsettling to him.  
  
Frodo was getting up, and quickly he shook his head at the Hobbit and went over to the sleeping Elf himself.  
  
"I will take care of this," he whispered to Frodo, "leave him to me!"  
  
With that, he knelt quickly down beside his Elf and gathered Legolas carefully in his arms. "What is it, _melethron?_ " he whispered gently, although he could well imagine.  
  
Legolas was deep in dreams, and he did not wake up. Aragorn took care not to touch his back, where he knew the whip marks were, or his rear or thighs, where the marks were worst; he cushioned the body carefully against his chest, petting the golden hair.  
  
Legolas huddled against him, yet he still sobbed in his sleep, and now Aragorn could make out his words.  
  
" _Saes... darech(1)..._ please! Please stop! Please don't hurt me anymore, Estel! Please, I cannot bear it! Please..."  
  
The sobbing ebbed off for a moment, then returned. "Please, please! _Estel--_ " the sentence ended in a soft, hopeless whimpering.  
  
Aragorn swallowed hard.  
  
He bit his lips. Legolas was deep in Elven dreams. So deep that he did not even wake as his master touched him and petted him gently, although he somehow seemed to recognize the scent and touch of the one who held him. Yet he was not really conscious. _This_ was not the brave face the Elf used to show his master during their games, or even under severe torture if Aragorn demanded it of him; or at least the face he _tried_ to show, until what his tormentor put him through finally became too much.  
  
 _This_ was what his Elf really felt when he subjected him to his cruel pleasure.  
  
The begging and despair Legolas normally swallowed since he was well aware his master did not wish to hear it, or even allow it.  
  
Yet it had been years since these sobs and the pain had last haunted his slave even in his dreams. Since he had last pushed Legolas so far that the Elf could not even control his dreams any more. And _that_ had been quite early in their time together...  
  
"Please, Estel," the slave murmured in Sindarin, "please don't! Please stop! Please do not do that! No, no--" Another sob. "Please do not hurt me anymore... please... Estel..." Again, the voice trailed off in a whimper.  
  
No 'master'. No 'My Lord'. _**Estel**_.  
  
It broke Aragorn's heart.  
  
True, he had been harsher that last time than he had ever been before. Yet he had not fully realized how deeply he had truly hurt his Elf, how close he had really come to breaking him.  
  
And _**that**_ was something he'd never intended.  
  
Very carefully, he enfolded his Elf in his arms, anxious not to touch anywhere he would hurt him. He did not say anything at first, since he could hardly manage to find his voice; he just held him fast. His eyes burned with unshed tears. His heart hurt deep within his chest.  
  
Briefly he debated what to do. He could try to wake Legolas up, yet the Elf desperately needed his sleep, since he was in such dire need of healing. Or he could just continue like this, and hold him, as he had so many nights before.  
  
Of course, during those times, it had usually not been _**him**_ who caused Legolas' nightmares.  
  
Finally he managed to whisper with a raw, broken voice: "Shh, _melethron..._ it's all right... don't cry..." He fought for words. After a moment he continued: "I won't hurt you again... not tonight... shh..."  
  
His voice broke. Swallowing hard, he said hoarsely: "I'm sorry, Little Leaf! I'm so sorry!"  
  
Then he felt his eyes well over and allowed his tears to flow freely at last. Quietly he promised: "I'll give you time to heal. I'll be gentle... as gentle as I can. Please don't cry anymore, Little Leaf! I'll try, I promise, I'll try to be gentle with you next time, as much as I can, _melethron..._ "  
  
The sobbing of the body in his arms did not stop, but slowly it subsided to silent weeping.  
  
Aragorn continued to pet his Elf. He was at a loss what to do. He did not wish to leave him, yet he had to continue his watch, and he could not do this staying by Legolas' bedroll.  
  
Finally, he gathered him up and rose. It took him alarmingly little effort; sadly he noticed that his Elf was still lighter than he should have been. _Well, Legolas had not eaten that much these last few weeks at all, had he?_ Grimly, Aragorn carried him over to the watch post he had chosen earlier that night, a little above the camp, where he had a good look around. There he settled down again, placing Legolas beside him. He laid him carefully half on his side and half on his stomach, cradled the head of his Elf in his lap, and returned to petting his slave's head and shoulders tenderly. Barely audibly he began to sing. It was the _Lay of Luthien(2)_. He was all too aware of the grim irony.  
  
He heard a sudden rustle and laid a hand to the hilt of his sword, but it was only Frodo who settled beside him.  
  
"What ails him?" the Hobbit asked quietly in Common.  
  
Aragorn was careful with the phrasing of his answer. He knew Frodo was fluent in Sindarin, and all too perceptive, too.  
  
Still, the first thing that sprang to his mind, the bitter words: ' _ **I**_ am what ails him, Master Hobbit!'-- were hardly anything he could confide to the Halfling.  
  
After a moment he merely said: "He has very bad dreams."  
  
Frodo looked with sympathy at the Elf. Carefully he said: "I did not know Elves had bad dreams, too," and Aragorn suddenly asked himself how much Bilbo had told his nephew about him and Legolas or about Rivendell. _Did Frodo knew--?_  
  
Of course he could not ask. So he said quietly: "This one has them sometimes."  
  
Frodo looked at him. "The two of you are together?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn looked back at him. Wasn't that obvious? Carefully he answered: "We have been comrades for a long time."  
  
Frodo shook his head, obviously a bit irritated. He regarded him questioningly. "Just comrades?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn shook his head. He couldn't answer.  
  
Exasperated, Frodo specified his question. "The two of you are lovers?"  
  
Aragorn looked at him, then at his Elf. "Yes. For a long time," he finally replied.  
  
In a fashion, it was true. In a fashion, it was heartbreakingly _close_ to the truth – and yet as far apart from it as one could possibly get with that answer.  
  
And yet he called his Elf 'beloved' for a reason.  
  
Frodo nodded solemnly. "Do you want me to take your watch?" he offered at last.  
  
Aragorn looked at him inquiringly. Frodo looked right back. "So you can care for him," he explained. "He needs you!"  
  
Aragorn seemed grateful, yet still reluctant. "Yet you also need your sleep," he said.  
  
Frodo shrugged. "I cannot sleep," he said. "I will take the watch for you."  
  
Aragorn looked at him for another moment, then he shook his head. "I will be grateful if you _share_ it," he said, "since as it is I cannot sleep now, either. I'll have to watch over him."  
  
Frodo smiled. "Then I will be over there and leave the two of you alone for a while," he said, nodding to the other side of the camp. He stood up.  
  
Aragorn smiled back at him. "Thank you, Master Hobbit. I owe you!"  
  
Frodo wandered off. Aragorn resumed his quiet and sorrowful caring for his Elf. He continued to pet Legolas' head, combing his fingers through the silken hair, and quietly singing to him. Finally he trailed off, and finished with his song. There were still a few hours until morning, and he doubted his voice would serve that long.  
He decided to light his pipe. He filled it and lit it, then took a few, calming breaths.  
  
Legolas in his lap had long ceased weeping under his touch and soothing voice and had finally slipped into a deeper sleep, apparently away from haunting dreams. But now, the Elf twitched a bit and gave a disgruntled murmur of protest.  
  
Aragorn jumped a bit, then he smiled at the familiar reaction. "I know you do not like my pipe, Little Leaf," he said, "Yet I have to inform you that within this Fellowship, you are sadly in the minority with this. I believe only that man of Gondor does not enjoy the weed. I am afraid you will just have to suffer our habit. At least, it should serve nicely to drown out the smell you complain so often about."  
  
The gentle teasing was sheer nonsense, of course. It had been long since Legolas last dared to complain about the pipe – or the smell – of his master. Not counting the one, small, hesitant teasing that day after Aragorn had returned to Imladris with the Hobbits.  
  
That seemed to have happened an impossibly long time in the past right now.  
  
To his relief and secret joy, however, the still half sleeping Elf now wrinkled his nose and replied: " _Nothing_ could drown out the smell of delayed bathing, _Adan!_ And you did not even change your bedroll after your last journey when we set out again this time. Nor your coat."  
  
Aragorn let out a quiet, delighted chuckle. "Nor my boots, nor my breeches, nor my gear," he added wryly. "There simply was no time!"  
  
He caressed the golden tresses of his Elf, glad that obviously, Legolas was better. "How long have you been awake, _melethron?_ " he asked quietly.  
  
"Not long," Legolas replied. "Your burning pipeweed woke me. Your watch is already over?"  
  
Aragorn tenderly caressed his head and face. "No, _melethron_ ," he said quietly. "Frodo took it over. You were crying in your sleep."  
  
To his dismay, the Elf turned to him, alarmed, and winced as his hurting back and rear came in contact with the ground. Realization dawned.  
  
"I am sorry, ma-- Estel," Legolas stammered, fearful and wary again. "I just--" He shrank a bit into himself, obviously in fear of new punishment. It made Aragorn's heart bleed.  
  
Sadly, he shook his head and silenced his Elf by placing a finger to his lips. Carefully he traced over them. "No matter. You had very bad dreams," he said. Then, even more quietly, he added: "Frodo knows. He guessed that we are... lovers."  
  
Legolas swallowed hard and looked even more appalled. His eyes held a clear, yet fearful question. Aragorn looked back at him with grief.  
  
"Just lovers," he answered the unspoken question. He traced his fingers gently over the fair features. There was still so much fear in his slave's eyes...  
  
Brokenly, he added: "Don't fear, _melethron_. I will give you time to heal before I... _take_ you again. And I will try to be gentle. As much as I can."  
  
The Elf looked back at him questioningly. "I dreamed of you," he stated, "didn't I?"  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. "No matter," he said bitterly. "It's not as if that wasn't enough to give you nightmares."  
  
Then he added, a little more precisely: "Yes you did. But it was nothing I should not have expected."  
  
Quietly, he added: "I am so sorry, Little Leaf! I will try to be more gentle with you from now. I promise! I just--"  
  
His voice broke.  
  
The Elf swallowed. Suppressing a groan of pain, he rose to his knees, pried the pipe out of his master's hands -- smiling a little at Aragorn's slightly alarmed look-- and set it aside on a stone. Then he took his master's face in both hands and kissed him.  
  
"Thank you," he said to his surprised master as he let him go and handed him his pipe again. "Thank you, Estel!"  
  
It sounded genuinely relieved, and for the first time in days without fear. And with that, he stood up, gave the huddled form of the Ranger a last caress and made his way back to his bedroll. There he lay gingerly down again and slipped under his blanket. Soon he was deep in Elven dreams, and for the first time since that fateful night they were peaceful and undisturbed.  
  
As Aragorn later woke the Dwarf for the third watch and settled down beside his Elf again, he found Legolas still deeply asleep. Yet as he recognized his master's scent, the Elf snuggled unconsciously closer until he could settle back into his arms again. Aragorn found sleep, cradling his Elf against his chest, and slept peacefully until the morning watch finally woke them.  
  
  
_______________- o _______________  
  
  
  
The following day was easier for Legolas. His back still hurt, and the quiver still chafed on the remaining welts and bruises, but he found he did not grow exhausted so fast anymore and was not as taxed by the simple task of trudging on. The undisturbed healing sleep had done much to restore his strength and speed up his body's healing.  
  
But even more his master's apology and tenderness had restored his strength. Estel's heartfelt apology and his promise to let him heal had finally silenced the doubts and bleak despair that had tormented Legolas so much and that had torn him inwardly apart. He was able to trust in his master again, and that, more than anything, gave his mind the peace and his body the strength he needed to heal.  
  
While the Elf walked on, he still was attacked by the occasional painful memory, but now he found it easier to block them out or to control them. And for the first time in days he found himself capable of paying attention to his surroundings again and found strength and healing in the signs of life around him, even subdued as they were by the approaching winter3. The wild beauty of the living land soothed his nerves and restored his hope. Soon he was even capable of smiling again.  
  
At the midday meal, Legolas made a point of getting himself back into the good graces of the Hobbits by accepting and eating his share of Samwise's cooking and giving it some – well deserved – praise. He even exchanged some friendly words with Frodo. He found his master's eyes on him, and when he met Aragorn's gaze, he saw relief. Still, Aragorn insisted on carrying his pack during the day, and made sure again the walk was not too long.  
  
In the evening, Aragorn tended to Legolas' injuries again. He was surprised and pleased with the progress his Elf had made; while the flesh was still tender to the touch and bruised from the fading whip marks, it was already much, much better. Briefly, his mind was flooded by the thought how it would feel to subject his slave to a round of rough love making now, while the Elf's rear and thighs and even his passage were still marked from the recent abuse and the flesh was still hurting at each pressure. He swallowed hard in sudden arousal.  
  
He fought it down. Legolas needed to heal. And even more, he needed to know that he could trust in his master's promises again. As tempting as it was to make use of his slave's still sore state and relish forcing himself on the Elf's still hurting flesh, he could not do that. He had promised Legolas to let him heal before he took him again, and he would keep his word.  
  
So he simply applied the healing salve, then placed a kiss on the shivering shoulder of his slave.  
  
"Your healing has sped up," he said aloud, "I'm pleased! In a few days you will be well again, Little Leaf. You'll see! It will get better now!"  
  
He placed another kiss on the bare shoulder and then signaled his Elf with his touch to get up. Tenderly, he helped him to dress again, then he directed the already nearly dreaming Elf back on his stomach and tucked the blanket around him. He placed another kiss on the golden head.  
  
"Sleep, _melethron_. Tomorrow it's your turn to take one of the watches, but tonight you may be undisturbed," he said and got up.  
  
His slave murmured a sleepy "Thank you, Estel," before he slipped into Elven dreams. Relieved, Aragorn saw that he was finally sleeping with open eyes again.  
  
  
The night was quiet. Aragorn had taken the first watch again, and as he walked the perimeter of the camp, he thought of his Elf.  
  
He took a sharp breath at the sudden images. _Legolas writhing in his bonds, his shaking, fearful voice begging for the next blow... the sore, bruised buttocks just begging to be squeezed and fondled; the marked thighs, still sore to the touch... And then the unwelcome, but tempting thought of how satisfying it would feel to force that hurting rear down on himself, breach the tight passage, make Legolas ride him, hear the Elf's sudden gasp of pain as his buttocks came in hard contact with the pelvis of his master... and again, and again, and again..._  
  
Aragorn groaned and bit his lips at his suddenly too tight leggings. He shook his head in disgust and resisted the urge to reach down and give himself release. Damn it, Legolas was _healing_ , and he had promised him to leave him alone until he was well again. And that was what he would do! All the Elf needed now was another broken promise of his master!  
  
Yet deep in the back of his mind, a persistent voice whispered: _'He is your **slave!** It is his **duty** to serve your desires! He should be **pleased** that you want him again, **pleased** of the opportunity to serve you as you most desire him...'_  
  
Grimly, Aragorn shook his head free from the images and shoved the voice away. With determination, he took up his walk again,ignoring the uncomfortable bulge between his legs.  
  
 _And he had warned Legolas about the influence of the Ring only the other day?_  
  
Oh yes! He had known what he had been talking about!  
  
  
_________________ o ________________  
  
  
\-- End of Part IV --  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Saes... darech -- Sindarin_ : stop ( _dar_ \- stop – in the second person singular, not the imperative, as in _Daro!_ ) Actually, _'Saes'_ is _not_ real Sindarin, but 'Grelvish'. While I normally abhor Grelvish, I decided to leave it in here because there simply _is_ no word for 'beg' or 'please' in Sindarin to my best knowledge; and I needed one that would work here. Please, bear with me!  
  
(2) _Lay of Luthien_ : Song of Luthien, the Elf princess in the First Age who gave up her immortality to share the fate of Beren, her mortal lover.  
  
(3) There is a little problem with the time-frame here, since in this matter book-canon and movie-canon are falling apart. **Bookverse** , the Fellowship began the journey _two month_ after the Council, on December the 25'th. But **Movieverse** , they started _directly_ after the Council, at October the 26'th. Since _**this**_ story is based loosely on the Movieverse, the Fellowship starts the journey in autumn, not midwinter.


	22. Recovery

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Mild BDSM.   
_Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
\-- Part V: The Ring Goes South --  
  
  
**XX. Recovery**

Legolas ran nimbly back the path he had scouted out the last couple of hours. It was a easy one. Had he been alone in the wilds with Aragorn, he would not have paid much attention to obstacles easily climbed or taken, like steep hills, small boulders or thick, thorny undergrowth. These things were nothing to an Woodelf used to the dangers of Mirkwood's dark and heavy foliage, nor to an experienced Ranger weathered by many years of living in the wilds. But he could not ignore them now; he had the Halflings to consider. The four smaller members of the Fellowship would be hard taxed by climbs he and Aragorn would shrug off as easy, or undergrowth the taller members of the Fellowship could easily see above and navigate, while they with their bare feet would be caught and hindered by thorns and nettles with each step. And he could not lead them through fast running rivers or steep gaps and dangerous climbs. So he had gone ahead to scout a path manageable for them, since the few seemingly clear paths in this part of the country all too often lead to sheer falls or ended in treacherous swamps.   
  
Of course, finding a clear path for the Hobbits meant it would also be an easy walk for the Dwarf, but that small nuisance could hardly be helped.  
  
No matter. He ran, enjoying the exercise of his finally pain free limbs, and the ease with which he jumped over boulders or bushes as well as the sureness with which his feet touched the ground. At last, his body was whole again. Life was good!  
  
He also looked forward to the faces of the Hobbits when he would treat them with the edible, sweet berries he had found today, and the large stock of mushrooms he carried in his pouch. He had learned early after his recovery how much the Halflings liked mushrooms for dinner.  
  
Shortly after the second night of their journey, he had developed a friendly, easy-going relationship with the four Hobbits, especially Sam and Frodo. Samwise with his fondness of growing things and his curiosity for all Elvish things, warmed his heart. The _Perian_ had pestered him for songs and stories, as well as for words in Sindarin or even just the Elvish names for plants, until Legolas jokingly complained he was no gardener; but in truth he shared the love of the Hobbit for living things and was heartened by Sam's good care of the pony. The Hobbit had not only a real talent for cooking, he also has a natural affection for animals and plants that reminded Legolas of his own people. And Frodo with his quiet but observant manner and his warm and sympathetic heart had gained Legolas' respect and friendship, too. He was less close with Merry and Pippin; the two seemed more interested in learning weapon skills from Boromir and less fascinated with the Elf of the Fellowship, and they kept close company with the Gondorian. But he was friendly with them, too, and liked their cheering company.   
  
Yes, the Hobbits would be pleased with the addition he brought for dinner. His master and Boromir would probably be more delighted about the brace of geese he had managed to shoot. They would be a welcome diversion from the dried meat and roasted sausages. Boromir had disclosed his longing for well roasted goose just the other day.  
  
Legolas could not say he had grown really close with the Gondorian. After their conversation a few days ago they had not exchanged many more words, since soon afterwards Legolas had taken up his chores as member of the Fellowship with a vengeance and made up for the first three days with long scouting missions to find the best path. Or he would take over the first or second watch during the night and then just keep it until he woke the others in the morning. It had earned him Boromir's respect, but not his friendship. But they were on much friendlier terms than directly after their confrontation in the Council. Legolas suspected that he was just too closely associated with Aragorn to become friends with the man of Gondor. Boromir and Aragorn had developed a truce of sorts between them, and even some mutual respect after their first sparring match a few days ago; and since that match, the Gondorian was even civil with his Would-Be-King. But he clearly still did not like him and was far from accepting Aragorn's claim as Isildur's heir to the throne of Gondor. And Legolas knew Aragorn's feelings for Denethor's son were not too friendly, either.   
  
But at least they respected each other.  
  
That was more than one could say of Legolas and the _Nogoth_. Even now, after Legolas was doing his share of duties to the Fellowship, the Dwarf had not ceased his mutterings about _weak Elven princelings too pampered to be of use on such a Quest_. Of course the _Nogoth_ could not know how very far he was off the mark, and how painful and ignorant his jeerings truly were, but they still _stung_.   
  
But since Legolas could hardly explain the truth to him, and did not find much opportunity to retaliate except with the occasional jibe, he simply tried his best to ignore him.   
  
Legolas easily jumped over a small boulder and enjoyed the airborne moment. His thoughts turned to his master. He was glad they were away from Rivendell and Estel seemed to be himself again.   
  
Since the start of their journey, Estel had shown him nothing but concern and tenderness. And he had kept his word. He had not taken Legolas again, but allowed him to heal. Legolas knew Aragorn had denied himself to do that; he had seen the longing in his master's eyes, the dark desire... harshly held in check by Aragorn's determination to give his slave the chance to recover. Placing Legolas' needs before his own.   
  
It warmed Legolas heart. _Dear Estel!_ Legolas found it easier now to stay in the present or to dwell on the good memories they shared, using them to counterbalance or block out the bad ones.  
  
He also knew it could not last.  
  
Legolas could feel it in his soul, in his whole body. The longing to feel Estel's touch, to please him, to be taken by his master was growing ever stronger. It took effort already to stay a pace or two apart when they walked near each other, and he was eager for every look, every single word, every simple touch, however brief.   
  
And he knew Aragorn felt it too, although for _him_ it would translate merely as desire.  
  
It wasn't strong yet. They were a week away from Rivendell, and it had been just a week since he had last been taken. By now, he felt only the first faint tendrils of the curse, and not the burning desire and ever increasing _**need**_ that would grow relentlessly if it wasn't satisfied, until it nearly robbed him of his mind. Until all his being concentrated upon just one aim: being taken by the one who owned him. And he was still far away from true withdrawal, when his own body would become his enemy and poison him, eventually kill him, if his master did not stop the process first.  
  
But he knew that it was time. The spell demanded to be fed again.  
  
And to give him what he needed, Aragorn would have to cause him suffering again.  
  
Biting his lips and trying very hard not to think about the coming night, Legolas ran on.  
  
There was no point in wishing things were different. He knew his master had no choice, as little as he had himself. And besides, if he was lucky, Aragorn would not even have to do a lot to get ready for him. The memories of that fateful night in Rivendell were still very fresh; they should be enough to bring Aragorn to hardness simply by reminiscence. Maybe they would prove to be enough.  
  
Legolas sighed. They were in the presence of the One Ring.   
  
He did not dare to trust their luck anymore.  
  
  
__________________ o _______________  
  
  
It was a merry evening meal. Although the two geese were not much to feed nine hungry mouths, they proved a welcome addition to the usual fare of the Fellowship, and the berries and mushrooms added nicely to the dinner. Even more, Aragorn managed to find some spicy herbs and onions to give more flavour to their meal, much to Sam's delight. All in all, the company ate better than they had in days.   
  
Afterwards, the Hobbits exchanged stories of the Shire and nonsense songs, and Aragorn let himself be goaded into telling a hilariously scary story of the Rangers. Then Boromir boasted a bit about his home in Gondor, and was soon pestered by Merry and Pippin to tell them more.   
  
Legolas dared to settle comfortably close to Aragorn and was content as he felt his master's hand settling on his back, petting him absentmindedly. Sam shared another funny song of the Shire, Boromir told more funny tales from Gondor, and until the watches were divided the company shared much merriment.  
  
After the dividing of the watches – Merry took the first, Legolas the second and Boromir the third – the Fellowship settled in for the night. It was then that Aragorn stood and laid a hand on the shoulder of his slave.  
  
"Come with me, Legolas," he said, "let's have another look around to make sure this place is safe."  
  
Legolas looked up to him. He saw the desire in his master's eyes. Without another word, he nodded and got up to follow Aragorn into the surrounding bushes. While he walked, he shrugged back into his harness, fastening the straps of his quiver around his chest again. He noticed that Aragorn had kept his weapons, too.  
  
They did not go far; just a few minutes away from the camp until they were sure they were out of sight and well out of earshot. Then Aragorn turned to his slave, grabbed him and drew him close.   
  
Legolas was surprised and pleased at his master's passion. He obediently opened up under Aragorn's kiss, then moaned as Aragorn bit his lips, then plundered his mouth thoroughly. He gasped as his master buried his hands in his hair and grasped it just a bit too tightly, and he gasped again when Aragorn's mouth left his own and wandered to his neck, then to his ear. Aragorn licked over the sensitive lobe, let his tongue caress and swirl around the tip, then he bit down, hard. Legolas jerked and shivered. Aragorn's hands left his hair and clutched his back. They squeezed his body hard enough to leave bruises. Legolas could feel the bulge between his master's legs, answered by the growing hardness between his own. Aragorn ground their groins together. He pressed Legolas against himself nearly hard enough to crush him. Legolas could hear his harsh breathing, answered by his own.   
  
Finally, Aragorn let go of his slave's ear and drew back a little. Gasping, he said: "It's been too long, Little Leaf! I thought I would go mad if I had to look at you one more hour without tasting you!"  
  
Legolas closed his eyes and let himself be swept away by his own need and by his master's passion. Nearly inaudibly, since he was not sure if he was allowed to speak right now, he whispered: _"Estel!"_ He swallowed. _"Take me, Estel!"_  
  
It was hardly more than a movement of lips, but Aragorn heard him. His arousal surged and he gasped again. "Come!" he said, sitting down on a boulder and drawing Legolas down on his lap with him. "I want to feel you!"  
  
Obediently, the Elf got down on his master's knees and straddled him. Aragorn buried his face in Legolas' neck again, nibbling along his jaw. His hands roamed over his slave's back, yet soon he found his exploration hampered by the quiver. Impatiently, he drew back and tugged at the straps of Legolas' harness.   
  
"Get out of that, Little Leaf!" he commanded, "and take down your leggings, too! Let me see you!" Hoarsely he added: "I _need_ you, Little Leaf, I _need_ you!"  
  
Legolas shivered. Wordlessly, he got up and freed himself of his harness and his weapons, then he took off his belt with the pouch and hunting knife and got out of his leggings. With bared thighs and groin he knelt in the grass again, legs parted to let his master see him. He kept his head demurely bowed, yet he could sense his master's desire and felt his gaze like searing heat on his skin, even without seeing his face. He felt his own answering apprehension and excitement, mounting and ever rising, and shivered.  
  
Aragorn looked at him, hunger in his eyes. He reached out his hand. "Give me your belt, Little Leaf!" he commanded.   
  
Legolas looked up, eyes wide with fear. Aragorn was breathing hard, and his eyes were dark with desire. Swallowing hard and trembling, the slave followed the command, freeing his belt from pouch and hunting knife and handing it to his master.   
  
Aragorn took it. He took both ends into his right hand, running the smooth but strong leather experimentally though the other hand. Then he slapped the leather lightly to the side of the boulder and patted his knee with his free hand.  
  
"Get down here, Little Leaf. On your stomach!" he commanded harshly.  
  
Legolas bit his lips. He tried to control his breathing, yet it came much too fast and betrayed his fear. Shivering, he obeyed and laid himself over his master's knee, his semi-erect member pressing hard against the _Adan's_ raw leggings, his bare buttocks vulnerable to the whipping he was sure to come. He could feel Aragorn's hand trail teasingly over his yet unmarred flesh. Tensing up, he waited for the lash to fall.   
  
Yet to his surprise, Aragorn instead bowed a little down and caught his hand, yanking it up on his slave's back; then he grabbed Legolas' other arm. Realizing what his master wanted, the slave obediently let him put his wrists together, and Aragorn bound both hands tightly with the Elf's own belt.   
  
Completely helpless, but relieved that he would not be whipped with the belt after all, Legolas waited for his master's decision how to hurt him.  
  
Aragorn took his time. He knew he could not draw this out too long, for they could not risk being missed by the others, but he could not help enjoying his slave's shivering, and he savoured the Elf's tense anticipation of the coming pain and Legolas' helpless acceptance of whatever he was about to do to him. For a few moments, he was content to stroke and pet the round, pale buttocks reverently and feel Legolas barely suppressed trembling. Then he raised his hand and let the first blow fall.  
  
Legolas gave a little yelp, then he bit his lips and remained silent, save a few more gasps and whimpers. He could not suppress the occasional sob, although the spanking was far less brutal and painful than what he was used to from other occasions. Still, it hurt and stung, and when Aragorn finally stopped and stroked over his reddened cheeks again, his rear and thighs burnt and hurt with every touch. Under his stomach, he could feel the bulge in Aragorn's leggings, hard and needy. Then Aragorn's fingers breached him, teasing his entrance and pushing in, gently but firmly stretching his passage. He sighed in relief since he could feel his master had coated his fingers with oil and did not plan to take him unprepared. Aragorn's fingers stretched him, took him, owned him; then they found his sweet spot and he gasped at the sudden pleasure, mingling with the pain. His rear lurched up, and his master pressed down on him, stilling his movement again, then taking a moment to massage him inside and kindling his desire to burning heights.   
  
Raspingly, Aragorn whispered: "You are beautiful like this, Little Leaf! You don't know what you do to me, how much I desire you..."  
  
The fingers left Legolas' passage. Harshly, Aragorn yanked his slave up and forced him to straddle him again, knowing well that it would hurt immensely to put weight on the freshly aggravated buttocks. Legolas obeyed, grimacing at the pain. Aragorn kissed him again, tasting him thoroughly and pressing him close. With his other hand, Aragorn freed his own straining erection from the confining cloth and leather. Then he let go of his slave's mouth and commanded: "Get down on it, Little Leaf! Ride me!"   
  
Legolas swallowed. He rose up a bit, bringing his rear to the head of his master's straining member. Since he was bound he could do nothing more, but Aragorn came to his aid. With his left hand steadying his slave, Aragorn guided his erection into the entrance of the Elf with his right. Then he grabbed Legolas' arms with both hands and forced his slave down on himself in one harsh move.  
  
Legolas gasped at the sudden pain as he was impaled by his master's hardness in one powerful thrust. Then he gave another sharp and surprised hiss, this time in pleasure, as Aragorn's member hit his prostate. He was echoed by Aragorn's own gasp. His master just held him immobile for a few moments, giving him time to adjust, and Legolas felt his passage relax around the intruding flesh, pleasure mingling with the pain and overriding it for a moment. Then Aragorn's hands on his arms tightened again and his master let him sink backwards. With his bound hands, Legolas had no leverage and was kept from falling merely by Aragorn's grip. Aragorn held him fast, leaning back a little until they found a precarious balance and his member inside the Elf grazed directly over his slave's prostate. Legolas gasped again. All his weight now rested on his hurting rear and his equally sore thighs, which pressed hard against his master's legs and pelvis. He trembled under the strain of the awkward position, and breathing hard he waited for his master's next command.  
  
Aragorn groaned as his member was tightly enclosed by the warm flesh of his elf. It was pure bliss, and the shivering apprehension of his slave just added to the pleasure. He waited a few moments, until the tight passage enclosing him relaxed a bit. Then, adjusting his own angle so he would hit the sweet spot of his slave with every new thrust, Aragorn hoarsely replied his command again. "Now! Ride me!"   
  
Gasping at his harsh tone, Legolas obeyed. Slowly, then ever faster, he began to move, sobbing slightly as his hurting thighs and rear slapped against his master's legs and pelvis with every down thrust and his thighs were aggravated by the pressure he needed to put on them to move upwards again. At the same time, his sweet spot was hit again and again, and pleasure exploded in his head, mingling with the pain. He breathed hard and deeply, riding the pain, and felt his pleasure building, amplifying that of his master. His Elfhood, having waned a bit under the first painful thrusts, was fully erect again and grazed against his master's stomach with every downward thrust, and soon he felt himself coming close to his peak. He bit his lips, remembering to keep quiet, and could see Aragorn fighting to remain silent too. Then Aragorn gave a harsh hiss and thrust upwards against him, and he could feel hot fluid filling him and giving him relief. Swallowing a shout, he spilled himself, gasping his master's name: _"Estel!..."_  
  
He heard Aragorn's answering whisper: _"Legolas! Oh my Little Leaf!..."_ \-- then his master drew him upwards again and enclosed him in his arms, pressing him against his chest and burying his face in his neck, still joined.   
  
Aragorn whispered a slow, sweet thread of endearments into his ear. "You are beautiful, melethron, I need you, you are so wonderful to have, a marvel, I am glad to have you..."  
  
Legolas let himself be held, warmed by the afterglow, and savored the tenderness and the closeness of his master. _'Oh, Estel!'_ \-- he thought, deeply content in this precious stolen moment between them. He had not truly known how much he had missed this. He was grateful and delighted that Estel had kept his word, that he had been gentle and had not played any harsher games. And Estel had been considerate of his slave's pleasure. Glad to be safely in his master's arms, Legolas let himself drift in the reassuring feeling. Finally, Estel reached out and gently pried the knot of the belt apart, freeing his lover's wrists, and Legolas hands came up around his neck and settled on his shoulders.   
  
Aragorn reached up and caressed his slave's face. "Better?" he asked.  
  
Legolas looked a moment back at him, then understanding dawned. He nodded. "Much! Though it wasn't bad yet."   
  
Aragorn kissed him on the cheek. "And we do not want it to get bad again. I'm glad." He kissed him deeply. "You were wonderful, Little Leaf. I was growing desperate to have you again."  
  
Legolas didn't reply for a moment. Then, very deliberately, he took his master's face into both hands and kissed him. "Thank you, Estel," he said. "Thank you for waiting."   
  
Aragorn just continued to pet him.  
  
"We need to go back," he said after a moment. "The others will start to miss us soon."  
  
Legolas made to get up, but Aragorn stayed him. "Wait a moment, Little Leaf. There is one more thing..."   
  
He fished with his hand in his pouch for a moment, then he brought the small _taer cant(1)_ out. "I need you to wear this," he said simply.  
  
Legolas stared at the thing, wide eyed and dismayed. Their coupling had been so wonderful, in spite of his hurting thighs and rear, and he had hoped... but obviously he had hoped too much. Desperately, he dared to say: "But--"  
  
Aragorn looked at him, then he shook his head, exasperated. "You do not need to wear it for long," he said. "You can get it out again in half an hour, maybe even before we are back in the camp. But I cannot stay within you as long as I normally would, and so we need to make up for that. Now, will you get up and just obey?"  
  
Shivering, harshly yanked out of his warm afterglow, Legolas obeyed. He rose up from his master's lap, separating their bodies, and stood while his master slipped the hard, unyielding _taer cant_ into him.   
  
It did not hurt; his passage was widened and relaxed enough from their recent lovemaking, and the pleasure staff was rather small and of lesser size than Aragorn's erect member. But it was much more uncomfortable than the hot column of flesh that had just filled him. And the thing was _cold_ , though surprisingly enough not as cold as Legolas had feared.   
  
"Estel! It is... it isn't--" he stammered in surprise.  
  
Aragorn smiled up at him.  
  
"--Not cold?" he retorted. "Well, it shouldn't be. I wore it right under my tunic and close to my body half the day to warm it up."  
  
Legolas bowed his head and stood obediently still while Aragorn fastened the _taer cant's_ straps around him. He told himself he should be grateful. His master had been thoughtful, after all. He had been gentle, and tender. Still...  
  
Aragorn was done with the straps and guided him a step back with a gentle hand on his stomach. He got up and kissed him again. "Do not fret," he said. "You can take it out again soon. But you need to wear it at least half an hour, so we can make sure that my essence in your body can take hold. You may take it out as soon as is convenient after that."  
  
His tone held a certain current of irritation, and Legolas knew he could not risk protesting further. After all, Aragorn could make him wear the thing the whole night, or even during the day's walk, if he was in the mood. Obediently, he bowed his head. "As you wish, master," he replied. "May I... may I dress myself again?"  
  
Aragorn nodded, while he covered himself again. "Yes, do so, Little Leaf," he said. "We have to go back."  
  
Legolas did as he was commanded. It felt awkward to fasten his leggings over the end of the pleasure staff, and he knew it would hamper him in his walking, since his body tried to expel it. Unfortunately, it was an all too well known sensation. In bleak resignation he donned his belt and gear, then his quiver. Then he turned back to his master,who signaled him to start walking. They didn't exchange any further words. Mutely, mood dampened again, Legolas followed his master back to the camp.  
  
  
_____________ o ____________  
  
  
Most of the Fellowship had already settled in to sleep when they came back. Just Boromir and Merry, who had the first watch, were still up. Boromir sat near the fire, whetting his sword. He looked up as the Ranger and the Elf entered the camp from their so-called _'scouting mission'_.  
  
Merry sat a little to the side of the camp and smoked a pipe. He looked up in alarm when the Ranger and the Elf emerged suddenly and noiselessly out of the bushes, and Aragorn laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Quietly, but anxiously, Merry asked if all was well and if they had found any traces of the enemy; Aragorn gave him a little smile and told him the camp was safe. They exchanged a few more, quiet words before Aragorn walked over to his bedroll. Legolas had gone ahead. Gingerly, the Elf knelt down beside his bedroll and fidgeted with the blanket. He seemed reluctant to shrug out of his quiver. Aragorn squatted down beside him. He exchanged a few quiet words with his companion in that strange, but melodic tongue of theirs, then the Ranger unfastened his belt and placed it - and with it his sword -in easy reach. Afterwards he discarded his own quiver and his other weapons and settled into his bedding.   
  
Legolas knelt beside him for a moment, then he said something inaudible, and after a nod of the Ranger he got up again. He walked back to the edge of the camp and disappeared in the foliage.  
  
Boromir frowned. He could well imagine what the _'scouting mission'_ of these two had truly been about. But if Legolas and his Ranger had just stolen a moment of privacy to make love, why then was the Elf's demeanor so subdued? And why was he walking so stiffly, as if he were injured again? And what was that Ranger doing simply settling in for sleep when his Elf was clearly uneasy and not well? For days, that so-called heir of Isildur had done everything in his power to fuss over the Elf, and now he simply ignored that the Elf seemed in pain? Had the two of them quarreled out there?  
  
Boromir drew his brows down. Something seemed not right here. He resolved to stay awake until Legolas came back; and in fact it took only about half an hour until the Elf finally reappeared. Now he was walking more easily, but he still didn't settled into his bedroll near his Ranger; instead he walked over to the Hobbit and exchanged a few words, and Merry smiled and got up, apparently relieved from his watch. Legolas did not settle down in the place the Hobbit just had vacated, but stood like a young sapling under the cloudy sky, staring out into the night.  
Boromir got up and strolled over to the Elf. "Legolas," he greeted quietly, and the Elf nodded. "Are you well?"  
  
The Elf looked at him, obviously astonished. "Yes I am, Master Boromir, thank you," he said. "I merely need to think." He seemed a bit startled at Boromir's concern.  
  
Boromir sighed. "It is a quiet night," he began.  
  
Legolas gave him a indecipherable look. He did not seem to like the prospect of a conversation. "So it is," he finally said. "So far we have been lucky. But we don't know how long or even if our luck will hold. You should sleep, Boromir of Gondor. We might need your strength very soon."  
  
Boromir made a face at the rebuke.  
  
"Very well, Master Elf," he said a bit coldly. "But do not forget again to wake me for my turn as you did last night! You need some sleep, too, you know!"  
  
The Elf graced him with a smile, though it seemed subdued. "Much less than you humans," the Elf offered. "But I will do so, if you wish."   
  
Boromir raised a brow at him, then he resigned himself to the dismissal and went back to his bedroll.   
  
Who was he to pry any answers from an Elf who was just too arrogant to speak to him?  
  
A bit grumpy, he settled down to sleep.  
  
Still, he could not shake the irritating feeling that something was not right. Legolas had been all right when he followed Aragorn out of the camp this evening. When he came back, he was walking stiffly and gingerly, as he had those first few days of the Quest. And his mood had been subdued, not the easy, joyful one he had shown when they made camp.  
  
Silently, Boromir resolved, when the Elf and the Ranger next left the camp together, to follow them.   
  
  
_____________ 0 ______________  
  
  
Unbeknownst to them, they had another watcher.   
  
Gimli, son of Gloin had observed the changed demeanor of the Elf as well, and he had seen the possessive behavior of the Ranger when he told the Elf to follow him. Gimli had made it his task to watch the Elf very closely, to see if he could find another weakness he could use against the flimsy creature. He had not found a lot that he could use, yet he had observed some things that, to his mind, just did not add up.  
  
The arrogant Elf was supposed to be a princeling, yet he was haughty only when he spoke to Gimli. To others, his demeanor always seemed wary, somewhat hesitant, with the possible exception of the Hobbits. And he showed a strange deference to the Ranger. While the black haired human seemed far too concerned with the Elf's health, he also showed a strange air of dominance toward the Elf. And Gimli had not missed the subdued and fearful way the Elf had acted the first few days around that human, and the wary way he still deferred to him most of the time.   
  
And yet the Elf had defended that very human in Elrond's council, and woke nearly every morning when it had not been his turn to take a watch cradled in the Ranger's arms.   
  
It was possible that the Elf was somehow bound to follow the Ranger's commands, but how and why that should be so, Gimli could not guess. And while he was certainly no expert concerning Elves, he did not have the impression that the Elf was acting as untroubled around the human with whom he obviously shared his bedding, as he acted, say, around the Hobbits.  
  
And still, it was quite obvious that the two were lovers.   
  
Was the human the husband of the Elf? Gimli knew some Dwarves in other colonies than Erebor treated their partners nearly as possessions and would not allow them to even speak to others, although surely no stout Dwarven woman would suffer such treatment for long without fighting back(2). He did not know the customs of humans in this, and much less he did know the customs of Elves; nor did he want to. Maybe that Elf was just too frail to hold his own. Yet had that Hobbit friend of his father Gloin, Bilbo, not said that the Ranger was betrothed to some Elven Lady?  
  
Gimli had no idea how to solve this puzzle, but he was certainly determined to solve it. After all, it might hold the key to getting his revenge upon the Elf. He did not know a lot about Elves. Yet since he had to suffer the company of _this_ one, and since he still had a slight to avenge, he was determined to learn about him what he could.  
  
He would continue to watch the Elf and his interaction with the Ranger very closely, indeed.  
  
  
_____________________ 0 _______________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _taer cant -- Sindarin:_ 'straight shape'-- short for _'taer cant aniron'_ , straight shape of desire. A pleasure staff or dildo.  
  
(2) This has been completely made up by me. yet it is based on the sentence about Dwarf women in the Appendix A of LOTR: _„For Dwarves take only one wife or husband each in their lives and are jealous, as in all matters of their rights." (J.R.R. Tolkien, LOTR, 1955, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1995, Page 1053_. I think, the mentioned jealousy might just lead to some overzealous possessiveness in some Dwarves sometimes, as it does in humans. But I also think Gimli still does not know a lot about humans, at this point.


	23. Hide And Seek

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : none.  
 _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. Some sentences of this chapter are directly lifted from the Book, albeit with little changes for my own purposes. They will be referenced with footnotes and an asterisk.* The correct quote is given in the footnotes.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXI. Hide And Seek**  
  
  
In the morning, Aragorn woke with empty arms. A little dismayed, he rose up on his elbows and looked around for his Elf. Had Legolas skipped waking Boromir for his turn of the watch again? Surely he had not been so dismayed over the pleasure staff that he had avoided their bedroll all night?  
  
To his surprise, he found the Elf sitting close, nearly touching his head. Legolas was busy combing his long, silky hair, and as he met Aragorn's gaze he smiled at him. "Good morning, Estel," he greeted him, "did you sleep well?"  
  
A bit astonished at the friendly tone, yet utterly delighted, Aragorn watched him a moment critically. Legolas seemed well, and apparently he had no problems sitting. Good! That meant their little bout of roughness yesterday had done no lingering harm! Yawning, then shaking off his sleepiness, Aragorn replied: "I did. Thank you!" Then he added inquiringly and a bit more quietly: "You seem up early, Little Leaf. Did you sleep at all last night?"  
  
The Elf ducked his head a bit guiltily, but still he smiled. "I did," he answered, "Boromir refused to let me take his watch." He smiled wryly. "It seems the man of Gondor thinks that even Elves need to sleep sometimes, as well as Humans." He finished with his comb and began to braid his hair again swiftly and nimbly.  
  
Aragorn snorted and cocked his head at him. "And he would not be wrong in that!" he said. "It is well he did not allow you to take his watch again. You need some rest, too, sometimes, you know!"  
More gently and a little more quietly, he added in Silvain: "How fares your back?"  
  
Legolas blushed – a quite becoming hue, Aragorn decided - and ducked his head again, but his smile remained. "It is well again, My Lord," he said, "you have been gentle!"  
  
Then he suddenly and hesitantly reached out and touched Aragorn's head, almost tracing through his master's black hair.  
  
He drew back again immediately, as if he had been burned, and looked down again. Blushing harder, and very shyly, he said: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." he trailed off.  
  
Aragorn went very still. He knew precisely what had just happened. Normally, being his slave, it was not _Legolas'_ place to initiate closeness and contact between them. He could _invite_ it, or even _ask_ for it; but normally, it was not _his_ place to start touching his master, save when he had been ordered to do so, or if it was needed to help or aid him.  
  
Of course, when they were alone in the wilds, and far away from Rivendell, neither of them would place much weight on that bit of protocol. Yet now they were _not_ alone, and apparently Legolas was not sure how openly he was allowed to display affection in front of the Fellowship. And obviously, the memory of Rivendell was still fresh enough in Legolas' mind to make him hesitate in breaking protocol even in this little matter. Still... it had been some time since Legolas had been truly relaxed around his master, and dared to touch him without some kind of invitation, had it not?  
  
Legolas' simple and unwary display of affection was something Aragorn missed keenly sometimes these days.  
  
Reaching out and taking his slave's hand into his own, Aragorn brought it to his mouth and kissed the tapered fingers gently, then placed them against his cheek. "You're welcome to do that," he said. "You are welcome to touch me, Little Leaf."  
  
Legolas looked at him, then he traced a moment over his face, blushing furiously. Carefully, he finally drew his hand back, but this time it was not in fear, just due to the fact they were not alone and the Fellowship was slowly rousing from sleep all around them.  
  
Holding his gaze, the Elf said very solemnly: "Thank you! Thank you, Estel!"  
  
He did not elaborate. He did not need to.  
  
 _'Thank you for being gentle. Thank you for letting me heal. Thank you for waiting this long with taking me again. Thank you for keeping your promise.'_  
  
It was heartbreaking in the way how basic these things truly were, and yet how much it meant to his slave that Aragorn had kept to them.  
  
Aragorn regarded him for a moment, the familiar slight grief in his eyes, but very tenderly.  
  
"You are welcome," he reassured him again. Then he added quietly: "I thought I had you disappointed yesterday with that _taer cant_."  
  
Legolas looked down. "I am sorry! I didn't mean--" he said, then shook his head. Solemnly he looked up again and met his master's eyes. "I've had some time to think," he said. "I was being stupid. I'm sorry, Estel. I should not have doubted your decision." He swallowed hard. "I-- I request--"  
  
He could not quite bring himself to say it. Aragorn's finger found his mouth. His master laid his finger across his lips and stopped him.  
  
"I am not angry, Little Leaf," Aragorn said. "It is well. I know you don't like it." He sighed. "It was not meant as punishment, or as a toy. Just a necessity."  
  
Legolas looked up at him, surprised and grateful. He kissed the finger on his lips. Then he murmured solemnly again: "Thank you, Estel. You are gracious!"  
  
Aragorn briefly caressed his cheeks, then he drew his hand back. He yawned again. "Now, is there any chance for breakfast?" he asked in Common, deliberately breaking the mood and returning to their official roles of 'comrades in the Fellowship', "and could I borrow your comb when you are done?"  
  
Legolas drew back and regarded him with faked outrage, grateful for the lightening of the mood between them. " _ **My**_ comb?!" he answered in the same language, "in _your_ hair?! When did you last wash it, scruffy human?"  
  
Aragorn drew a grimace. _"Not that old taunt again!"_ he protested. "I washed it at the same time as _you_ did, prissy Elf! It is not my fault that your hair seems to keep silky by some strange magical means for much longer. Not fair, anyway, if you ask me..."  
  
But he grinned broadly as he said it, to signal his slave he wasn't angry at the teasing, and he was delighted when Legolas snorted with feigned disgust and wrinkled his nose.  
  
"Go wash yourself," the Elf said with a show of haughtiness, "then I will _think_ about grooming your hair with my comb, and maybe help you shave that scruffy thing you call a beard into something more presentable, too!"  
  
They were taken from their cheerful exchange of insults by a sharp _"harrumph!"_ behind them, and turned.  
  
"If the two of you are quite finished," the Dwarf said, looking down at them, "it is _your_ turn today to get the water, Elf, if I recall correctly!"  
  
Legolas glowered at him. "Didn't I take one of the watches, Master Dwarf?" he retorted, "I would think it was _your_ turn--"  
  
"I got the water yesterday," Gimli said with derision, "but if you regard yourself too _well-bred_ to do simple chores, maybe one of the Hobbits--"  
  
Legolas just glowered at him another moment, then he sighed and rose up. "I'll have to go, Estel," he said, "lest the _Nogoth_ accuses me of _'skipping my chores'_ again. Even if I don't recall any agreement that made it _his_ place to decide who was doing what among the Fellowship."  
  
With that he stalked off. Aragorn rose, annoyed and angry.  
  
"Legolas is right, Master Dwarf," he said quietly, "I don't recall it was _your_ place to decide who should do which chores, either. How comes it that you are suddenly the one to give out orders?"  
  
The Dwarf shrugged. "It is not as if it wouldn't do that Elf some good to do some lowly chores," he said, "instead of just watching and scouting. It's not as if he is anything better just because he is a haughty princeling."  
  
Aragorn glowered at him.  
  
"You have _no idea_ of what you speak," he said quietly and angrily, "and it is certainly not my intention to cure you of your ignorance, son of Gloin. But Legolas has made an effort so far to keep the peace within this Fellowship, instead of reacting to your taunts, and so should you!" He glared at the Dwarf and added: "Or does this Quest means so little to you?"  
  
Gimli straightened up. "You doubt my dedication to the Quest?!" he asked furiously.  
  
"I doubt your willingness to _keep the peace_ ," Aragorn said. "Or why didn't you ask _me_ to get the water? _I_ did not take any watches last night!"  
  
The Dwarf shrugged. "Now that you mention it..." he said nonchalantly and quite unperturbed, "somehow it did not even _occur_ to me to ask you."  
  
He bowed. "Now, if you would excuse me... I have some other things that need my attention."  
  
And he turned and stalked off to the fireplace, where he busied himself with lighting the fire.  
  
Aragorn followed him with his gaze, then he fought down his anger. He had heard Gimli's mutterings too often now not to know his argument by heart.  
  
 _'It isn't **you** who has to make up for the first three days of laziness'_ were the words the Dwarf had not repeated just now, but had muttered often enough to anyone who would or wouldn't hear it, a persistent commentary on whatever Legolas did for them these last four days. And there was no way Aragorn could tell him how very far off the point and unfair that reasoning truly was.  
  
Shaking his head in grim disgust, he knelt down to pack his and Legolas' bedrolls, then rose and stalked off to the stream to follow his Elf's suggestion about washing himself.  
  
He missed the sharp and scrutinizing gaze which followed him.  
  
Gimli nodded to himself, quite satisfied with his little experiment. _So, the Elf would be shy to touch the Ranger first, but the Ranger would not hesitate to touch the Elf? And at the taunt about getting the water, the Elf would not jump up and confront him over his provocation, but rather avoid a direct contest, leaving the Ranger to protect him instead?_  
  
Curious! The behavior of these two seemed more odd to him with every passing day! Gimli did not feel he knew enough to solve this puzzle. But while he pretended to go about his own business, he did not cease to watch these two closely the whole morning, and indeed during the following days, either.  
  
  
______________0 _______________  
  
  
The Fellowship moved on. After a few more days, their luck changed. The terrain was now harder to move through, and the mountains were ever drawing nearer, and bent westwards, and about the feet of the main range there was a tumbled and ever wider land of bleak hills and deep valleys filled with turbulent waters(1).* All too often their paths lead them to the edge of sheer falls, or down to treacherous swamps, or through unstable ground.* It was on the tenth day since the start of their journey that Aragorn suddenly stopped and called to Gandalf. He also motioned to Legolas, who followed his gesture instantly.  
  
The three of them squatted down together for a short, strained discussion.  
  
"I do not like this," Aragorn said, "the terrain seems much changed to me since Legolas and I traveled here last. And that was just about an year ago."  
  
Gandalf looked critically at the stony ground. "I agree," he said, "there seems to have been a landslide."  
  
"They happen often here," Legolas offered. "The mountains are close, and in the spring the brooks carry much more water. Maybe--"  
  
Aragorn drew a grimace. "Anyway, we cannot trust our memories any longer. We have to scout each leg of the path beforehand now, even if it means we have to slow down." He shook his head. "We can not risk falling into some gaps that may have opened, or triggering another landslide."  
  
Gandalf looked up. "Very well. Then we will have to rest longer midday, and you and Legolas will have to scout ahead whenever possible. You two are the ones most familiar with this terrain," he decided. "I'm sorry that this will leave little opportunity to rest for you!"  
  
Aragorn grimaced again. "Even less I like the fact that it will slow us down," he said, "but that cannot be helped now."  
  
Legolas said nothing. He did not regret the chance to spend more time solely with his master, although he liked the Hobbits. But Aragorn seemed much more relaxed towards him when they were alone.  
  
The Fellowship soon settled into the new routine. The Hobbits did not mind the longer midday rests, while Legolas or Aragorn, or sometimes both of them together, took swift scouting missions to decide the next part of the way.  
  
But Gandalf and Boromir were troubled by their slowed pace, although for different reasons. Boromir was eager to go home, since he wished to resume his post as captain in the war and feared for his men; and secretly, he harbored the thought that the current company carried the weapon that might just change Gondor's luck in this war for good. The sooner they were back in Minas Tirith, the better; he did not mind at all Gandalf's decision a few days ago to travel through the Gap of Rohan.  
  
Gandalf on the other hand was nervous about the loss of time, since he feared Saruman might use it to build his army further, and Sauron's minions would use it to regroup. The swifter the Fellowship would be, the better. He did not like the forced delay at all. And Gimli's openly voiced doubts of the competence of the Elven member of the Fellowship to scout the ground for a sure path through landslides wasn't helping, either. The growing strain between the Elf and Dwarf was a matter of constant disquiet, especially since Aragorn seemed to take Gimli's attacks on his Elven companion personally.  
  
The wizard saw it with concern. The sooner they left this stage of the journey behind and reached Hollin, the better!  
  
  
________________ o _______________  
  
  
Unfortunately, Legolas' hopes that the time spent solely with his master would improve Aragorn's mood and his indulgence were in vain. Aragorn seemed in much distress these days, and more grim and terse than Legolas had seen him for some time. It did not help that their scouting missions proved to be taxing and treacherous indeed and there was hardly time even to steal a kiss or two while they searched for the best path for the company and for any signs of creatures of the enemy. They were swift, and concentrated on the task ahead, and so there was no opportunity to use the time alone to lie together or to feed the spell again.  
  
It didn't matter, though. There was still time until the necessity would arise again. Or so Legolas thought, at least.  
  
Therefore he was surprised when after the second day of their scouting, his master commanded him to accompany him for another 'look around' after they made camp in the evening.  
  
Legolas obeyed, but with much apprehension. Aragorn had had an quiet, but heated exchange with Boromir that day. He did not look forward to what his master would do to him in such a mood.  
  
Still, he had no choice but to follow his command.  
  
They were barely out of earshot when Aragorn grabbed him and drew him into a crushing embrace, taking his mouth in a demanding kiss. Then, without further preliminaries, he buried his mouth in Legolas' neck and bit down, causing him to gasp.  
  
It took long moments until Aragorn finally drew back again, yet he did not relent his bruising grip on this slave's arms.  
  
"Do you know how frustrating it is to be alone with you for hours without the chance for much of anything?" he asked. "I _want_ you, Little Leaf, I want you _now!_ Undress!!"  
  
Legolas swallowed at the harsh command. Eyes wide as saucers, he dared to say: "But-- My Lord--the others--" He did not continue. Aragorn had to _know_ the camp was far too close. They would risk to be interrupted by anyone going to relieve himself. Besides... "And it isn't bad yet," he dared to protest. "Estel--"  
  
Aragorn grabbed his hair, harshly, and yanked. The Elf stared at him in sudden pain and fear. He opened his mouth to say something more, then thought better of it and just swallowed.  
  
Aragorn held his hair uncompromisingly in his grip and stepped close. _"I did not give you leave to argue!"_ he snarled. "You _will_ obey! _Now!_ "  
  
Shivering, Legolas nodded – grimacing at the pain the nod caused due to his master's unyielding grip in his hair - and Aragorn let go of him and allowed him to take a step back. With glittering eyes, he watched as Legolas began to loosen the straps of his quiver --  
  
\-- but suddenly, the Elf stopped and whirled around, knives drawn in an instant.  
  
For a moment, Aragorn was just annoyed, then well-honed instinct took over, and he dropped into a fighting stance, drawing his sword. "What is it, Little Leaf?" he whispered.  
  
Yet there was no need for Legolas to explain, for in the next moment, he could hear the noise himself, and it took only moments until the Dwarf emerged from he bushes.  
  
 _"Oh,"_ Gimli made with faked surprise, "you are back already? That seems to have been a short scouting trip indeed!" He did not bother to hide his satisfaction that he had disturbed them.  
  
For a moment, Legolas thought his master would strangle the Dwarf, or just run him through; but then Aragorn sheathed his sword again and rolled his eyes. "No, we were just starting, Master Dwarf," he said. "Did you wish to join us?"  
  
Legolas ducked his head while he sheathed his own weapons and fastened the straps of his harness again. _Having to endure the Dwarf stumbling around in their wake?! That was all they needed. But maybe Aragorn thought to lead him to that ledge..._  
  
He shook his head and banished his treacherous thought. He would _not_ kill any member of the Fellowship, not even the Dwarf. _He would not!_ Nor would Aragorn. _Even if the thought was really tempting..._  
  
To his relief, Gimli shook his head. _"Me?"_ he retorted, "No! I am just looking for firewood. The Hobbits decided we need more, and so I and Merry and Pippin volunteered to find some." He smiled politely. "But don't be restrained by me. I'm sure you have yet much _...scouting..._ left to do, tonight."  
  
Legolas saw his master's face and decided that maybe Aragorn _would_ kill the Dwarf after all. There was no chance Aragorn could take Legolas tonight without having to fear that any of the Hobbits – or the Dwarf – would find an excuse to stumble over them.  
  
Still, Aragorn remained admirably calm. "As you say, Master Dwarf," he said. "Legolas? Are you coming?"  
  
Without a further look at the annoying _Nogoth_ , Legolas followed. They were quite some distance away when Aragorn turned back to him. This time, his master's grip around his shoulders was more gentle, and he drew the slave in a tight embrace.  
  
For a moment, Aragorn was content just to savor the feel of his slave against his body.  
  
"Maybe it's good we were disturbed, Little Leaf," he finally said. "I'm not sure I was entirely myself back there. And you were right; it _was_ too close to the camp."  
  
Legolas sighed and returned the embrace, glad the moment of harshness had passed and equally glad of the shared closeness. "You mean-- the Ring--?" he dared to ask.  
  
Aragorn nodded. "I have _hungered_ for you this whole day," he said, "but that is no excuse. Even without Gimli's determination to pester us, we could have been discovered. I'm sorry."  
  
He fingered longingly through his slave's golden tresses. "It is just hard to be so close to you and not to have you," he said. "I grow very frustrated."  
  
"Estel," Legolas began, "we can't--"  
  
Aragorn sighed. He kissed him. When he finished the kiss he said: "I know! And I could _strangle_ that _Nogoth_ for that. But tomorrow is another night. Maybe we can find some time to sneak off, _then_."  
  
Legolas relaxed into his kiss, then let himself savor the tender petting. "It isn't bad yet," he nevertheless dared to say. "There is still time..."  
  
Aragorn's grip on his shoulder tightened a bit and he bowed his head. "I'm sorry, master," he corrected himself. "I didn't mean--"  
  
Aragorn tucked a braid out of the way and bit gently into his ear, starting to nibble, and Legolas had to stop and swallow a moan. He could feel Aragorn smile at his reaction.  
  
  
Finally, his master let go of his ear and kissed his neck. "I think I _may_ like to take you sometimes just for my _own pleasure_ , Little Leaf," he said, "even if the spell does not demand it."  
  
Legolas blushed and ducked his head. "I'm sorry, master," he said, quite subdued. "I request--"  
  
Aragorn silenced him with a kiss. "Don't tempt me," he warned then in a good-natured growl. "I might take you up on it! But seriously, Little Leaf, the terrain is growing more dangerous by the day, and soon we might actually find ourselves hunted by the enemy. I would prefer to take you often, so when we _do_ find ourselves under strain and there is no more time to feed the spell, you won't be in need."  
  
Legolas nodded. He was glad that there would be no punishment tonight. And of course Aragorn's reasoning was sound enough. Still...  
  
"Is _this_ what had you so bothered these last few days?" he dared to ask.  
  
Aragorn drew a grimace. "Never mind," he said. " _You_ aren't the only one having trouble keeping the voice of _**that thing**_ out of your head."  
  
But he did not elaborate. He shook his head and would not say more. Instead he withdrew and stepped back. "Now, let us go before our dear Master Dwarf just _happens_ to stumble over us again," he said. "I suggest you take the circle south around the camp, I take the circle north, and we meet back at the fire, later. And do not take one of the watches tonight," he warned as an afterthought. "This day was taxing enough. You need your rest!"  
  
Legolas gave his master a deep bow and then turned to take the way he was commanded. They met just half an hour later back in the camp, and by then the Dwarf wasn't back yet. It was with some satisfaction that Legolas heard Gimli finally return, muttering and cursing into his beard, nearly an hour later. Obviously, the _Nogoth_ had got lost in his little pestering mission, and found himself hard pressed to retrace his tracks and make it back. Legolas could not say that he felt sorry for him. Shortly afterwards, he slipped into peaceful elven dreams.  
  
But Aragorn's dreams that night were anything but peaceful.  
  
 _The Fellowship hunted by the enemy; warg voices howling in the air, shadows circling over them, no time to rest, to stop, to sneak away at night or even by day just for a few minutes... Legolas, squirming in pain, in need, trembling, crying for his master... too weak to go on, grey in the face, the dark strains on his flesh ever growing, until they reach even his neck and face... the normally clear, blue eyes filmed over, unseeing... Gandalf, face laced in sorrow, telling him they'll have to leave the Elf behind..._  
  
\-- This time it was Aragorn's turn to wake up, swallowing a scream, trembling and sweating. He looked around. It was just two hours past midnight, there were still a few hours until morning. Beside him, Legolas rose up on his elbows and looked inquiringly at him.  
  
He looked back at his reassuringly alive and healthy Elf for a moment, then he just shook his head and motioned him to snuggle close. Legolas returned his gaze with a clear question, but when no explanation was forthcoming he just nodded and obeyed. Aragorn enfolded him in his arms and held him fast. Slowly, his trembling ebbed.  
  
It was a long time, though, until he dared to slip into an uneasy sleep again, and much too soon afterwards dawn found them.  
  
  
___________________ 0 __________________  
  
  
The following night, their luck wasn't any better. This time, Aragorn chose to find a place well out of earshot and a good, healthy walk away from the camp. Still, before they had gone further than a few kisses and just as Legolas was kneeling before his master and had discarded his quiver, the Elf froze and turned in the direction of the camp.  
  
Aragorn froze too, eyes flashing in anger. _"Please don't tell me--"_ he began, but in the same moment he could hear the approaching noise himself. In an instant, Legolas was on his feet, quiver buckled back on, and had unslung and strung his bow. Then he turned, arrow notched and trained on the very spot where mere seconds later the Dwarf emerged.  
  
The _Nogoth_ stopped at the sight of the pointed arrow. Still, he had the considerable nerve to say with faked outrage: " _Oi_ , Master Elf! It's just me! Take care who you point your arrow at!"  
  
In the next moment, though, he swallowed hard and went very still as a sword suddenly rested against his throat.  
  
"You were right, Legolas," the flat voice of the Ranger said, "it was no Orc who was stumbling through the bushes here. Although it certainly made enough noise to be mistaken for one!"  
  
His voice sounded grim and distinctly annoyed, and Gimli began to get seriously nervous, the more since he could not _see_ the Man.  
  
Paling and somewhat subdued, Gimli said: "Stay your sword, Master Ranger! I am no enemy, although that Elf seems to have trouble seeing the difference."  
  
Legolas merely raised a brow. Yet it was Aragorn who answered. "It _may_ have to do something with your demeanor, Master Dwarf," he said. "Now, what are you doing this far from the camp? Your noise would be enough to draw every enemy around upon us, if there are such lurking in the area. You _do_ remember that this mission is firstly about secrecy?"  
  
Gimli flushed. "I was merely looking to relieve myself," he growled. "Now, if you _kindly_ would remove that sword of yours--"  
  
The sword did not leave his throat. It did not even waver. Instead, the flat voice of the Ranger asked: "This far from the camp? You took quite a walk just to hit the bushes, Master Dwarf!"  
  
Gimli sputtered. Of course he could not openly admit he had been deliberately following them, albeit they knew as well as him that this was precisely what he had been doing. Finally, he drawled:  
  
"Merry and Pippin have this silly game of _'accidentally'_ stumbling over others who go for the bushes just to embarrass them. I thought if I went far enough away--" He stopped. " _Anyway_ , I hardly believe I need to justify myself to _you!_ " he added belligerently. "Now, either you remove your sword, or you take a step back and give me time to draw my axe so I can relieve you of it!"  
  
The sword didn't move. " _Wrong_ , Master Dwarf," the Ranger grimly said. "If you endanger the others with your behaviour, you _will_ find that I hold you accountable for it! And if you draw the enemy to us by stumbling through the dark, making such a racket, then _that_ is exactly what you are doing!"  
  
The sword pressed closer for a moment, and Gimli paled a bit more.  
  
Legolas, who was watching the proceedings, was undecided if Aragorn would finally give in to the temptation and relieve the Dwarf of his head, or not. His master looked every bit as if he was going to give in to the allurement.  
  
Then Aragorn finally removed the sword and sheathed it.  
  
" _Come_ , Legolas," he said, "if there were any creatures of the enemy around, they would have certainly been upon us by now. Let us circle the camp and then return."  
  
With that he turned. Legolas' arrow, which had been pointing to the ground during his master's lengthy discussion with the Dwarf, suddenly was trained on the _Nogoth_ again.  
  
Gimli considered his options. Every ounce of pride he possessed urged him to attack the Ranger. Still... there was the arrow of the Elf. And besides, the Ranger was a member of the Fellowship, and as little as Gimli liked him, he would not go as far as attacking him. Yet. So, he simply gave another noncommittal _"harrumph!"_ and waited until both the Ranger and the Elf disappeared into the bushes, before he turned and went back to their camp again.  
  
  
________________ o ________________  
  
  
Legolas followed his master's way through the terrain surrounding their camp. Aragorn's face was grim and dark with anger. Still, the _Adan_ made no other attempt at intimacy. Obviously, the mood for that had been destroyed quite thoroughly, and besides, they could not be sure they would not be disturbed again. Finally, when they had made a full circle around the camp, Aragorn stopped and enfolded his Elf within his arms again.  
  
"I nearly was about to kill that Dwarf," he said. _"Legolas--"_  
  
The Elf's arms came up around him. Legolas hugged him back.  
  
The Elf could feel his master tremble with harshly checked wrath. "I thought you would," he dared to say. "My Lord--"  
  
Aragorn shook his head, and Legolas trailed off.  
  
"I know. We can't," he said. "Not here, and not now." He paused for a moment. "This is not working, Little Leaf. We'll have to find another way," he added then. "I'll think of something."  
  
But he did not elaborate, and he did not even steal another kiss. Instead he simply let go of his slave and took a step back, then turned and went back to the camp. Legolas followed him. He did not dare to say another word. He was very subdued.  
  
Aragorn was in a terrible mood tonight.  
  
Legolas could not imagine that this fact boded well for the coming day.  
  
  
_____________________ o ___________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) This sentence and the following – with a few changes necessary for my own purpose – are directly lifted from _J.R.R. Tolkien , The Lord of the Rings, 1954, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1995, P. 275_. The original quote reads: _"South of Rivendell they_ (the mountains, A.C.) _rose ever higher, and bent westwards; and about the feet of the main range there was tumbled and ever wider land of bleak hills and deep valleys filled with turbulent waters. Paths were few and winding, and let them often only to the edge of some sheer fall, or down into treacherous swamps."_


	24. Caught

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : BDSM  
 _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXII.** **Caught**  
  
  
Boromir of Gondor was not a happy man. Grimly he looked forward along the long file of the Fellowship to the lead where one of the sources of his discontent walked. Aragorn was in a quiet conference with the wizard. He was without his fairer shadow for once; the Elf was not in sight right now, since half an hour ago he had taken off again to scout ahead. So there was nothing around even to improve the scenery. And just behind him, Boromir could hear the constant grumbling of Gimli, the Dwarf.  
  
Boromir scowled. It was not only that he find himself walking through a bleak, empty country, on a mission he considered sheer madness, while he was dearly needed in the war at home. But that mission was also set to destroy the _one_ powerful weapon that might be just enough to change the luck of Gondor in that war for good, the very weapon he, Boromir, had been sent to secure by his father. A weapon that now was carried by a Halfling, whom he and the others had sworn to protect, since the Hobbit alone could hardly so much as protect himself from a wolf, should they ever meet one in this cursed barren land.  
  
Not that Boromir held any dislike towards the Hobbits. On the contrary, he liked them well. They just weren't anything like capable fighters. And to give something like that One Ring into the hand of such as they... It boggled his mind.  
  
So, not only did he find himself on a Quest whose very purpose contradicted everything he himself believed in, no! But he also had to do it in the company of a sour, grumpy Dwarf, four Halflings just too prone to mischief and unable to defend themselves should the company be attacked, an easily angered wizard his father Denethor had always regarded as ambitious and not to be trusted, and a dour, haughty, arrogant Ranger too ragged to command any true respect, who claimed to be Isildur's long lost heir and to have a lawful claim to Gondor's vacant throne. Not to mention an Elf who was too flighty and too aloof to grace a mere Man of Gondor like him with the pleasures of a longer conversation, let alone his company, albeit he had no such reservations toward the Hobbits. Nor toward that Ranger who happened to be his lover.  
  
And that was another part of this journey that rankled him. Those two were always sneaking off together to share what was probably some hot cuddling match, while the others of the Fellowship, like for example him, had nothing but their thoughts to warm themselves at night. _It just wasn't fair!_  
  
Black jealousy clouded Boromir's mind and made him loathe the Ranger even more. He knew himself as an experienced soldier, and he was no stranger to prolonged abstinence, especially during warfare. He had endured worse hardships, and under much nastier conditions. Nor did it bother him that the Ranger and the Elf were _males_ who shared their beds. Boromir had had his own share of lovers, both male and female, in the past, although presently he knew of no-one who would wait for him and miss him during the nights at home.  
  
No, it was the fact that these two did not even bother to _attempt_ to set their love-life aside and concentrate on the task at hand on this Quest. Instead they even claimed to undertake noble _'scouting missions'_ , when, in truth, all they probably did during those trips was scout each other's arses. And then they even claimed to be _too exhausted_ to take a turn of the watches!  
  
And what was that Ranger doing anyway, clutching this male Elf as his lover, while Boromir had heard the Hobbits chatting just the other day about the necklace the Ranger always wore, and that it meant he was betrothed to an Elven Lady? Apparently he was the intended of the beautiful Arwen, the daughter of Lord Elrond himself. Boromir had just seen the lady from afar, but had to admit she was a prize indeed. And still, the Ranger entertained that dalliance with his lover?  
  
Was _one Elf_ not enough for the man? Did he have to claim _two?_ And if he was supposed to be a future king of men, could he not find himself a nice woman of his own race to marry? Why did it have to be an Elf in the first place?  
  
Although, thinking of Elves, Boromir had to admit he could well see the attraction. Especially when it came to the one among their company on this forsaken Quest.  
  
Indeed Legolas' company was one of the few assets Boromir could see in the current circumstances. From their unlucky start at the Council he had grown quite a bit fonder and more respectful of the Elf, although he had rarely found the opportunity to exchange more than a few words. But Legolas was definitely easy on the eyes, and most of the times when he _was_ in their company, and was _not_ walking too closely to the Ranger, but rather chatting with the Hobbits, he was even merry.  
  
In the evenings, especially when they had the time to sit and chat a bit, Legolas would open up a little and even grace the company occasionally with a melodic song. Only at night he would retreat to his place beside (or sometimes in) the bedding of the Ranger, and always when Boromir approached the Elf he found the watchful eyes of the other Man on him. He would not have minded, only Legolas had a tendency to clam up if the Dunadan gave the slightest indication of displeasure.  
  
In fact, Boromir could hardly understand why the Elf seemed so wary of the Man. Legolas was supposed to be a warrior, after all, even a prince, and he had clearly not shown any hesitation to confront Boromir when it came to defending Aragorn against him at the council. But at the slightest command of the Ranger he backed down and obeyed.  
  
He _always_ did.  
  
And since there had been hardly any chance for privacy with the elusive Elf, Boromir had not managed to come one bit closer to solving this puzzle.  
  
But he resolved within his own mind that he would.  
  
Grimly, Boromir trudged on, determined to make another attempt at getting closer to Elf as soon as possible.  
  
  
______________o ____________  
  
  
Boromir's opportunity came at the midday rest. The Elf had returned an hour ago and had led them to this place, covered by some bushes, some gnarled trees, and with a little brook running in the vicinity. The Hobbits had decided to make camp at once. Ahead, the territory seemed to grow more unfriendly, with hills, rocky ground and large boulders blocking a longer view.  
  
The Ranger had taken his plate from Sam and sat now a little aside, quietly conferring with the wizard. The Hobbits chatted among themselves, and Gimli sat aside, enjoying his pipe. That left Legolas, thoughtfully looking at the sky, his plate forgotten beside him. Boromir took his chance and settled himself beside the Elf.  
  
"You did a fine task of scouting again, finding us this place," he began.  
  
Legolas turned his head from the sky and looked at him, a bit astonished and startled out of his thoughts. He smiled. "My thanks," he said. "I hope we will find more of these in the territory ahead. We're nearing Hollin now, if I am not mistaken. The land should become easier with time."  
  
Boromir looked at him. "So you traveled here before? I wondered," he said, "you seemed to know the territory well."  
  
Legolas blushed a bit. "I have traveled here before," he acknowledged, although he did not elaborate further. "But the last few days, we could recognize little of the land, for it was much changed by landslides." He reached for his plate again and took another bite. "Have _you_ ever traveled here before?"  
  
Boromir thought the blush of the Elf very becoming. He shook his head.  
  
"Never," he said with regret. "The longest travel I have undertaken before this Quest has been my ride to Rivendell, and then I passed through lands further west and used the Green Way." He shrugged. "The war in Minas Tirith does not leave much time for travel save to raise allies or partake in campaigns," he explained. Then he looked appraisingly at the Elf. "You seem troubled by something," he observed.  
  
Legolas blushed again. "I am troubled by the weather," he said quickly. "The sky is clouded, and has been for days. Not much opportunity to see the stars, or even the sun. I miss them!"  
  
Boromir had the distinct impression that this wasn't all that troubled the Elf, but he was sure that he would get no further explanation. "If we make it to Minas Tirith," he offered, "I will take you to the citadel and up the Tower of Ecthelion! It is a marvel, higher even than the Tower of Orthanc! From there you will have a wonderful view of the stars. You would really like it!"  
  
Legolas smiled. He was a little amused at the Gondorian's eager invitation. In his mind, he wryly added: _'Oh, yes, and while I enjoyed the tower in your company, the rest of our Fellowship would probably get a prolonged and guided tour through the dungeons. Especially Aragorn and Frodo!'_ \-- But he took care not to say that aloud and not let any of these thoughts show on his face. Instead he offered: "I think I'd like that very much. I have heard a lot of good things about your city."  
  
 _'And it was nice enough when I saw it before, although it could certainly use more greenery,'_ he added in his thoughts. But suddenly he started and looked up like a trapped animal at the approaching, unfamiliarly loud thread of his master.  
  
Aragorn's face was clouded and stormy, and Legolas paled.  
  
"Legolas," his master said harshly, "come along! The day does not get younger while we dally, and we have to scout the way ahead!"  
  
Legolas saw his face and had no doubts he was in trouble. There was a palpable dark cloud looming over Aragorn's head. Swallowing, he managed to offer his master a polite nod and set his plate away. "Excuse me, Master Boromir," he offered politely, "but duty calls!"  
  
And with that he rose and followed his master without further delay.  
  
Boromir stared after them, irritated and troubled. _What was it with this Ranger? Was he now jealous if someone else so much as **chatted** with his lover?_  
  
Pondering his options for a few moments, he finally reached a decision and rose himself.  
  
 _Legolas had seemed quite displeased by the sudden 'call to duty', and quite a bit uneasy at following it. Maybe it was better he made sure there was no trouble waiting for the Elf!_  
  
  
______________ 0 ______________  
  
  
If Legolas had feared a harsh inquiry about his chat with the Man of Gondor, his misgivings proved to be in vain. Instead, Aragorn walked on, grimly and wordlessly, until they had covered quite some ground away from the camp and reached a place among large boulders. There he suddenly turned around and stopped.  
  
Legolas watched him, eyes wide with apprehension. Aragorn's expression didn't bode well for him.  
  
" _Now_ , Little Leaf, I finally have you for myself!" Aragorn said grimly. " _Here_ we will not be disturbed by the Dwarf!"  
  
Legolas looked around in alarm. They had walked well out of earshot, and they were covered in the direction of the camp not only by the boulders, but by the soft bulge of a hill that blocked the direct line of sight. Still, they were far too close to the others and far too exposed for his liking. It was bright day, and although the sky was clouded otherwise the air was clear, allowing far sight in all directions. From any angle that was not blocked by the boulders they would be in plain sight. If any of the others decided to follow them, or just took a little hike...  
  
And anyway, weren't they supposed --?  
  
"But," he dared to object, "Aragorn-- the scouting--?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head in mounting irritation. He stepped close. His face was harsh and determined, and Legolas could see a fey light in his eyes.  
  
"The scouting isn't necessary anymore," Aragorn said, "we left the area changed by the landslides behind yesterday. Didn't you notice? From now on, my memory will serve again."  
  
He was very close now and grabbed for his slave, drawing him to himself.  
  
"I have waited for a chance to take you undisturbed all day!" he said. "Now I will have you! Undress, Little Leaf! I want to take you!"  
  
Legolas could feel him tremble with passion, and he could feel it jump over to himself and kindle his own. Still, he hesitated to obey. They were too exposed. They could not risk--  
  
"But, My Lord!" Legolas dared to say, "The others--"  
  
Aragorn silenced him with a harsh, demanding kiss. "I do not _**care**_ about the others," he then snarled in a tone that tolerated no further disobedience. _"Undress!"_  
  
Legolas' hands came up by sheer instinct to follow the command, and Aragorn let him go and took a step back to enjoy the sight.  
  
Legolas eyes were wide with fear. He began to fumble with the straps holding his quiver, then he ceased. "But, My Lord," he finally dared to object one last time, "we can't! It is bright day! Somebody might have followed us! We could be seen--"  
  
Aragorn hit him. Hard, and full in the face.  
  
Legolas rocked back under the impact; then he stood, staring stunned and mutely at his master. He saw his wrath and dropped to his knees, head bowed in submission.  
  
 _"I gave you an order!"_ Aragorn snarled. "I did _not_ give you leave to discuss it! Down with your leggings, _now!_ You _will_ obey me!"  
  
Eyes wide with shock, Legolas obeyed. Quickly, he freed himself of his quiver and his belt, then he took down his boots and leggings and knelt down again, thighs bared and groin exposed to his master's sight. He bowed his head again. He knew he would not get away with a mere spanking _this_ time.  
  
"I am sorry, My Lord," he dared to say, "I have failed your command. I request punishment, if you would grace me with it."  
  
It was hard to utter the ritualistic words again, but he knew it was the only thing that might appease his master's anger now.  
  
Aragorn nodded in dark satisfaction. "And punishment you shall receive," he snarled. "It seems I have been too gentle with you during these last few days! _You forget your place._ You are my _slave_ , bound to serve my pleasure whenever and however I demand it! I think you may need a reminder of that fact!"  
  
Legolas said nothing. He had not been given leave to speak again.  
  
Besides, as much as his master's brutal words about his status and his duties hurt, they were still true. He _was_ a slave, bound to serve Aragorn's pleasure. Still... _to hear these words from **Estel**... _  
  
And Aragorn did not seem himself. It was not like him to discard reason, and _never_ before had he punished Legolas for giving warnings to him in the wilds. Legolas kept his head bowed. He wished his master would come out of it, would shake off whatever was possessing him right now. But it was not to be. He would have to bear this. Maybe, his master would return to reason later...  
  
He was ripped out of his musings when Aragorn stepped close to him and grabbed his hair, yanking it back and forcing his slave to look up at him.  
  
"Do you understand?" the Ranger asked harshly.  
  
Legolas swallowed at the pain of the tight grip in his hair, as well as at Aragorn's dark mood. "Yes, My Lord," he said.  
  
"Do you agree?"  
  
The slave lowered his eyes submissively. "Yes, My Lord. I am sorry! I was out of place. I ask forgiveness."  
  
Aragorn nodded again. His gaze mellowed a little and his anger lost some of his sting. "Maybe I'll grant it after you have earned it," he nevertheless said. "You earned yourself another whipping, Little Leaf. Today, you'll feel the lash again. Give me your belt."  
  
He let go of his slave's hair and took a step back again. Legolas bowed his head to him and took his belt, freeing it of pouch and knife and handing it to his master.  
  
Aragorn took the belt and ran it experimentally through his other hand. He nodded with grim satisfaction. "Good. The straps of your quiver, too. I will tie you up for this!" he commanded.  
  
Legolas swallowed again. As he had been commanded, he unfastened two of the straps of his harness and handed them over to his master.  
  
Aragorn tested them with a sharp tug between his hands and nodded. Then he looked around, finding a smaller boulder nearby where he could sit. "Very well. Come! I want you draped over my knee for this!"  
  
Wordlessly, Legolas got up and came over to his master, who sat down on the boulder and made him stand before him.  
  
Aragorn took a moment to trail the belt over Legolas' thighs and groin. Then he guided his slave to turn around and bound his wrists tightly with the quiver straps. Aragorn tested the bonds with another tug, then he nodded again with satisfaction. "Now," he ordered, "get yourself down across my knee. And brace yourself! This time you will not only feel the lash, but the marks may last you for a while. And I think I will enjoy taking you tomorrow while you are still sore, without much preparation!"  
  
Legolas obeyed. His master took a moment to fondle his yet unmarred buttocks and thighs and tease his entrance. The manipulations were much gentler than Legolas had expected, given his master's mood, and he let out a relieved breath. He believed he understood.  
  
 _So it was not just Aragorn's black mood or a strange possession by the Ring which drove his master to this harshness. These last two days, Aragorn had seemed desperate, haunted by some dark vision or dream. He needed his slave in pain to take him, the curse demanded to be fed, and they had hardly found a moment of privacy, let alone enough to play long games. As much as this whipping would hurt, it certainly also would ensure that Aragorn could take him soon again without many preliminaries. In truth, as angry as his master seemed, he had not ceased to care what he did to his slave or how much he hurt him. On the contrary, while this punishment would certainly serve Aragorn's pleasure, it was as much about serving Legolas' needs as well._  
  
Reassured, Legolas braced himself to be for Aragorn the brave, submissive lover he desired so much.  
  
Legolas could not help hissing sharply as the first blow fell and the lash bit into his flesh; but then he bit his tongue and refused to make another noise. Yet he could not prevent jerking under the pain. Aragorn delivered the blows with routine calm; he did not draw it out, seemingly more intent to reach his goal than to derive pleasure. Yet the blows were hard, and they would certainly leave marks that lasted at least to the next day. It took effort to endure them silently. Yet suddenly, he looked up, alarmed, and even with his Elven reflexes he was not fast enough to react in time.  
  
Aragorn savored the resigned acceptance of his slave with dark satisfaction. His arousal surged at Legolas' quiet acquiescence and hopeless effort to stay calm; he felt desire burning in his gut and groin, and he was rapidly growing hard and ready. Pride and desire surged through his soul. _Brave Little Leaf..._ But he had not yet let the fourth blow fall when Legolas suddenly began to wriggle in his lap and shouted a warning.  
  
"Aragorn! Stop! We are not alone!" the Elf shouted in Silvain.  
  
For a heartbeat, Aragorn was just too irritated to react, but then long-established habits and well honed instincts took over. In an instant, he let go of the belt, rolled the Elf unceremoniously out of his lap and jumped up, reaching for his sword.  
  
Legolas hit the hard gravel in front of him with a hiss, but Aragorn paid him no attention. He knew as well as his slave that the first order of the moment was for Legolas to get out of the way so Aragorn could defend him; at least as long as the Elf was helpless in his still bound state.  
  
Yet he was too slow. Before he could do so much as draw his sword, he felt a blade at his own throat and Boromir's angry voice bellowed:  
  
 _"Get back, you fiend! Legolas, behind me!"_  
  
So they were both intent on protecting the Elf. It would have been almost comical, had the situation not been so grave.  
  
Slowly, Aragorn let go of the hilt of his sword and raised his hands.  
  
"Peace, Boromir! You don't understand!" he said warily, "You are making a mistake!"  
  
Boromir's sword poked harder at his neck.  
  
"What is there not to understand?!" the Man of Gondor growled. "You abused him! You attacked another member of the Fellowship! But I will stop you now!"  
  
Aragorn grew nervous. All his instincts screamed at him to draw his sword and defend himself, but Boromir was far too close. A mere flick of the wrist by the Gondorian, and he would lose his head. At the very least, he would risk being run through.  
  
And he could not risk that, for it would spell death not only for himself, but also for his Elf.  
  
"Boromir," he began again, but at that moment, Legolas himself came to his aid. Scrambling to his knees, then to his feet, the Elf rose up between them.  
  
"Boromir, do not do this!" he pleaded. "Please! You do not understand!"  
  
Angry and irritated, the Gondorian took a step back. _"What do you mean?_ I _rescued_ you! It was _you_ he was abusing!" he said. "Damn it, Legolas! Get out of the way and let me kill that bastard!"  
  
The Elf, pale in spite of his deep embarrassment, and hands still bound behind his back, shook his head and remained exactly where he stood. Aragorn fought down the urge to use Legolas' cover and draw his sword. There was no point in allowing the situation to escalate even further. Instead, he carefully took a few steps to the side and out of Boromir's immediate reach, to give himself more room for movement, and kept his hands raised and in plain sight.  
  
"There is no need for the sword, Boromir," he began, "Things are not as they seem. Let me explain..."  
  
Boromir growled. He stepped aside and turned around to keep the sword trained at the other Man. He grew more irritated by the moment, since the Elf would not step out of the way, but followed his movements and kept himself between him and the Dunadan.  
  
"What is there to explain?" the man of Gondor raged. "I've seen enough! I will not let you hurt him anymore! _Out of the way, Legolas!_ "  
  
He raised his sword. The Elf grew desperate. He shook his head.  
  
"Boromir, _no!_ Don't hurt him! It is his _right..._ "  
  
 _"His **right?!** "_ the Man of Gondor raged, "How can it be _**his right**_ to abuse you!?" He hesitated a moment, narrowing his eyes. "Do you _**enjoy** being_ hurt?" he then demanded harshly with palpable derision.  
  
Legolas shook his head.  
  
"I was disobedient," he began in a small voice, pained by what he would have to reveal.  
  
Aragorn shook his head and stopped him with a fast command.  
  
"Stop it, Little Leaf," he said, "let _me_ explain this!"  
  
Obediently, Legolas fell silent.  
  
Boromir stared at the Elf for a moment, completely irritated, then he looked from him to Aragorn. "Well, then," he snarled, "I suggest you be quick, for I am losing patience!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Not here and now," he said. "I will not explain all this to you and then repeat it later, and I think I owe this explanation not only to you, but to all of the Fellowship."  
  
Legolas paled even more. "Estel!" he said in alarm.  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. "It is all right, Little Leaf," he said, "I think it is time we told them."  
  
Legolas looked at him in alarm, then he bowed his head, turned to study the ground and blushed. His shoulders slumped in despair.  
  
Boromir watched him for a moment with growing vexation, then he turned his glare back to Aragorn.  
  
 _"Tell us what?!"_ he demanded.  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I will disclose everything," he promised, "in time. Now, will you sheathe your sword and allow me to release Legolas so he can cover himself? The sooner we go back, the sooner you will get your explanation! I promise I will not attack you. Nor will he!"  
  
Boromir stared at him another moment, then he looked at the Elf again. Very hesitantly, the Man of Gondor took a step back. But then he shook his head.  
  
"No," he decided. "First, you will give up your weapon! Away with your belt! Then I'll allow you to release the Elf, and we'll go back!"  
  
Warily, Legolas dared to say: "There is no need---"  
  
\--but he was stopped by a sharp Elvish command from the Ranger and fell silent.  
  
Aragorn locked his gaze with Boromir and nodded. "If I give up my weapons, will you allow me to untie the Elf and to go back to the camp?" he asked, "and will you be content to let me explain the situation to you and the others there?"  
  
Boromir regarded him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "If I agree will you give up your sword and follow quietly?" he asked, "Without any attack or attempt to get away? And will you give a full recounting there and bow to our judgment?"  
  
Aragorn hesitated a moment. The latter did not bode well and caused him disquiet. Still, there was hardly anything else he could do.  
  
"I will," he said, "if it does not endanger my Elf." Carefully he let his hands sink to his belt.  
  
 _" **Your** Elf?!"_ Boromir sputtered, taken aback by the seeming sheer presumptuousness of the other Man.  
  
Aragorn just raised his hand again. "Peace, Boromir! I promised you to tell the whole tale later! Now, are we in agreement?"  
  
Warily, the man of Gondor nodded.  
  
Aragorn nodded back. He reached for his belt and unbuckled it, then he let it fall to the ground, sword, knife and all, and took a step back.  
  
Boromir nodded. "Now free the Elf!" he said.  
  
Aragorn cocked his head. "Of course," he said. "Come, Little Leaf. Let me release you. Then cover yourself again and pick up our weapons."  
  
Wordlessly, Legolas obeyed. Boromir watched as Aragorn unbuckled the straps that bound the wrists of the Elf with surprising gentleness. With a start he realized after a moment that these were the very straps of Legolas' own quiver, and the Ranger had obviously hurt the Elf with Legolas' own belt. His anger flared all anew.  
  
Finally, the Elf was free. Quickly, he went to fetch his belt, then he walked over to the place where he had discarded his leggings and his weapons and dressed himself again. Finally, he buckled his quiver back on. He exchanged a quick, nearly imperceptible glance with the Ranger, and at the equally subtle shake of the Adan's head, he gave a short nod and went to fetch Aragorn's belt with his weapons.  
  
Picking them up he turned back to Boromir again, ready to go.  
  
But his hue was nearly crimson, now, and he looked persistently to the ground. Boromir narrowed his eyes. Suddenly he did not wish to have the Elf at his back when he brought the Ranger back to the camp as prisoner.  
  
"You go ahead," he commanded, "Aragorn goes after you. If he tries to escape, you shoot him. Is that clear?"  
  
"Estel will not try to escape," the Elf said quietly. "He gave you his word. He will return to the camp and give an explanation."  
  
But he did not look up, and during the walk back to the camp he looked as if he were about to face his own execution.  
  
  
__________________ 0 __________________  
  
  
\-- TBC--


	25. Spilling The Beans

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : none.  
 _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ “speech”; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXIII. Spilling The Beans**  
  
  
It was a troubled company that sat around the fire, staring at the Ranger and the Elf in utter horror as they were listened to Boromir's accusations. Back in the camp, Boromir had at last agreed to give Aragorn back his weapons after the Ranger had promised to him again that he would not attack or try to flee, and would subject himself to the judgment of the company. But the return of the weapon was all the man of Gondor had conceded. He had called the Fellowship together and told them of his discovery in angry tones and stark detail. Now he turned to Aragorn, who had settled himself close to the fire, Legolas beside him. The Ranger was sitting in grim silence, his hand kept calmingly and reassuringly on the Elf's arm. Legolas himself had not uttered another word since they had reached the camps and avoided all gazes, staring at the ground in embarrassed silence.  
  
Boromir was the only one still standing, like a prosecutor, and now he turned back to the Dunadan.  
  
“So,” the man of Gondor challenged, “I don’t care much that the two of you are lovers. But how does it come about that you treat him this way? And that this Elf just suffers your abuse and does your bidding? He’s not your slave! Are you in the habit of treating your people so? Because I tell you now, in Gondor they won’t suffer a king who can’t keep from abusing those under his command!”  
  
Ever since the council Boromir had harboured a dislike of the man they had told him was destined to be his king. And while he had come to like the Elf a little better, despite their unlucky start when Legolas had spoken for the man, he had not really become friends with the _Edhel (1)_ , either, since Legolas remained much too close to Aragorn for Boromir's taste. That the Ranger and the Elf were lovers was not an astonishment. Far more dumbfounding was the discovery that the Elf who had defended his lover that strongly and then joined their quest suffered physical abuse at the hands of the man whose bedding he shared.  
  
They all stared at the Ranger. Aragorn fidgeted. The Elf at his side had lowered his head and seemed to find the ground utterly fascinating. He did not seem inclined to say anything for himself. Aragorn finally gave a deep sigh and shook his head.  
  
“There is no easy way to say this,” he said uncomfortably. “Actually, yes, he is my slave. He belongs to me in every way possible, and serves me as my companion, as well as with his body.”  
  
His hand still rested possessively on Legolas' arm.  
  
The others stared at him. Gandalf closed his eyes. He alone of all the Fellowship had suspected as much, since he had encountered Legolas before in Rivendell and knew he was a slave. Yet as long as he had known them, whenever he had met them in the past, Aragorn had always treated the Elf more like a comrade...  
  
Boromir seemed taken aback. He sat down on a root, still staring at the man. The Dwarf wrinkled his brows at this unexpected new development. The Hobbits seemed dumbfounded. They actually liked the Elf and had often delighted in his singing, and they greatly enjoyed his willingness to indulge them with some extra berries or mushrooms that he brought back from his frequent scouting trips, whenever he got the chance. Never had they suspected him anything else than Aragorn's comrade; surely under his command – that much was clear– but nothing more.  
  
It was Frodo who finally found his voice. He wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting!” he exclaimed. “I mean... I didn’t even know that Elves practiced slavery...”  
  
Gimli the Dwarf looked smug. The more he got accustomed to the idea, the more he liked it that this disgusting Elf was of considerably lower status than himself. Boromir looked irate. He was angry that Aragorn had not told them of the Elf's low status, pretending he was an equal, even a prince. _And how much more of what the two had told the Fellowship had been a lie?_  
  
Aragorn made a face. “They do, unfortunately. About three thousand years ago, the Mirkwood Elves were defeated and subjected to servitude by their brothers of the other Elven realms, and ever since they have been forced to give their best and most gifted away to serve as hostages and slaves to the victors. It was a punishment for their failure in the Last Alliance and their refusal to cooperate with the Noldor in the fight against the darkness, or so I have been told. Anyway, those given away from Mirkwood as tribute are bound into servitude, and given as slaves to Elves of noble status. I was given my own Elven slave when I came of age. Since then, we have hardly been separated.”  
  
Frodo drew his brows together. “But... but you are no Elf! You are mortal!”  
  
Aragorn nodded. Absentmindedly his hand, still resting on the Elf's arm, was slowly petting the blond, who still hung his head in shame. Finally, the Ranger replied:  
  
“Yes, I am. But I am also the foster son of Lord Elrond. Legolas was given to me as a special favor. And he has been a faithful servant and companion ever since. I could not have asked for a better gift.”  
  
The slave on his side ducked his head and swallowed. Gimli snorted, and Boromir cursed softly. Aragorn sent a small smile to his companion.  
  
Boromir accused angrily: “You said he was a prince!”  
  
Aragorn nodded once. “Because he is!” he said grimly. “He is the youngest son of Thranduil, who, albeit defeated and forced into submission, still rules the Mirkwood realm. The fact that the king had to give his son away and that son was enslaved does not change the fact that Legolas' blood is royal!”  
  
He locked stares with Boromir, who gave a derisive curse. Finally, Aragorn concluded: “Anyway, instead of only using him for my pleasure, I had him keep his arms and refine his hunting skills, and so Legolas has proven himself to be a worthy and loyal companion on all my travels. His skill with the bow is unmatched. He is a worthy companion on this Quest and will fulfill his duties as part of the Fellowship as well as if he were a free warrior. He has stood at my side in countless fights and he is fully capable of defending us.”  
  
His slave gave him a small, grateful look, and Aragorn gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.  
  
At this point, Boromir snorted disdainfully. He had had enough of this upstart Ranger, and Aragorn's insistence that his slave still was a royal just was too much. Not enough that this strange beggar of a Dunadan claimed to be of the royal blood of Gondor himself and to have a claim to Gondor's throne, now even his slave should have a claim to royalty? Next he would be claiming royal heritage for Bill the Pony! Angrily he recalled all that Legolas had told him about his home. He had no idea how much of it, if any, had been true, and right now he was in no mood to ask, or to believe the answers, either.  
  
“You said that this Elf is your pleasure toy! How can one mainly trained to serve you in your bed qualify to stand beside true warriors on the battlefield? He’s merely your _whore!_ How can he be our equal?!”  
  
Legolas' head came up sharply. Aragorn's brows drifted down.  
  
“Watch your tongue, Boromir! You know not of what you speak. Legolas is not my whore! He is my servant and he is bound to me to do my bidding, and also to give me pleasure in every way I want and see fit, but he is _not_ bound to share himself, or to serve, or to be used by anybody else save with my explicit permission!”  
  
Boromir's look, resting on the Elf who glared at him, suddenly turned speculative. Legolas seemed to shrink a bit as he obviously realized what the man was thinking. He paled visibly.  
  
Frodo shook his head.  
  
“Anyway, on this quest he should be treated like everybody else! We can not afford to divide ourselves, and we should treat everyone of us as equals, be they servants or not!” he stated clearly.  
  
Sam beamed. Gandalf nodded his approval.  
  
Boromir snorted.  
  
“And since this is not the time for spending strength in idle trysts, pleasure-boy there should concentrate on his skills with the bow instead of those with his ass! If we are a Fellowship, then you have no call to spend your nights in his arms, taking pleasure with your slave while everyone else has to spend them lonely!”  
  
Legolas' head shot up again and he cast Boromir a sharp and angry gaze, but Aragorn's hand tightened on his arm, giving him a warning squeeze, and the Ranger barked something in Sindarin. The Elf swallowed, and ducked his head again. His master was right. This was not the time to aggravate the Gondorian further.  
He even shrank a bit back into himself again. He feared he had just earned himself another punishment.  
  
Aragorn saw it and shook his head reassuringly. Then he sighed and turned his concentration back to the others.  
  
“Unfortunately,” he said slowly, “this is not as easy as it sounds.”  
  
Gandalf, who had said nothing so far, gave a sharp gasp.  
  
“He is bound to you by the _**Mael-Gûl?!**_ ” he exclaimed. “ _Now_ I understand...”  
  
Aragorn gave a pained nod. Gandalf's face grew dark.  
  
“That is an evil spell! Never had I thought you capable of using it, son of Arathorn!” he said with derision.  
  
Aragorn shook his head. “It wasn’t me who chose to put the spell on him!” he defended himself. “The blame belongs to Elrond, who put it on him when he was first enslaved.”  
  
Gandalf gave him a sharp look. “They could not have bound him to you that way without your participation!” he said. “Do not try to lay blame on others that belongs to you!”  
  
Aragorn sighed. _'You have known both of us for forty years, Mithrandir;'_ he thought, _'and you never ever before noticed anything? How blind have you been?'_ \-- but he didn't say that. Instead he answered with grave dignity.  
  
“I do not,” he said, “and deeply I regret the day I agreed to that. I was but young and foolish and did not realize the full consequences at the time. But even if I _had_ , they would never have agreed to allow Legolas to use arms and to accompany me on my travels and into the wilds had he not been bound to me by this.”  
  
Gandalf snorted.  
  
“Evil is this, and evil may come of it. I would not have trusted you as deeply as I have in the past, had I known of this!” he said.  
  
Legolas blushed. He sent a quick look to his master, asking him to be allowed to speak, but when Aragorn shook his head at him, he subsided.  
  
“I thank you for your loyalty, Little Leaf,” the Ranger said quietly in Sindarin, “but not now! Do not defend me for deeds for which I deserve blaming!”  
  
Then he turned back at the wizard and said with dignity:  
  
“Deeply cut your words, my old friend, and I do not deny that I deserve them. But the deed is done, and there is now no way to undo it. Unless you know a way to break the spell?”  
  
Gandalf shook his head, his face laced in sorrow.  
  
Aragorn nodded grimly. “Then we will have to live with it.”  
  
“What kind of spell is this?” Frodo asked, “The one you speak of?”  
  
Aragorn face held a pained expression.  
  
“It is a way to ensure a pleasure-slave who acts as warrior and accompanies his master on a campaign is bound to the one whom he serves,” he said. “In a... _most_ personal way.” He swallowed. “It means...”  
  
He finally shook his head and said flatly:  
  
“Legolas needs to be taken. By me. At least once a week, if possible more often. If he is not, he will suffer and in time become ill. And finally, die. Quite painfully.”  
  
Frodo stared at him in utter horror. Boromir looked at the Elf in horror and some mixture of disgust and awe. Gandalf looked grim. Merry and Pippin looked as if they had been slapped. Sam looked utterly dumbfounded. Gimli alone seemed to recover soon and he gave the Elf a speculative look, as if he considered the possibilities. Legolas himself was back at studying the ground and blushing deeply.  
  
Finally Frodo found his voice. “But then...” he said, and Merry asked, paling: “...die?! if he is not...”  
  
Aragorn shook his head.  
  
“Not immediately. If he is separated from me for over a week, he will begin to suffer, and the suffering will continue to increase as long as the separation is prolonged, until he is gravely ill. But it will not become critical for at least a month. Of course, we have never willingly tried it.” He chose not to tell them they had found out as much the hard way several times without a willing attempt.  
  
He sighed and stroked over the arm of his silent Elf.  
  
“Anyway, you see that I can not live a chaste life for the time of the quest just to accommodate your wishes, for Legolas would grow ill and possibly even die on me.”  
  
The face of the Elf at his side was crimson. He did not look at his companions.  
  
The silence seemed overwhelming. Yet it did not last for long.  
  
“But answer me a question, Master Ranger!” the Dwarf suddenly said. “That spell may be a highly effective way to keep that slave in line. But as Frodo stated earlier, you are mortal! What if you die on the quest? Or one day of old age? Is this Elf doomed to follow you to your grave, then?”  
  
Aragorn gave him a hard stare for his obviously dispassionate view of the implication of the spell, but then he sighed.  
  
“If I die, be it on this quest or in another fight, and Legolas can prove that he did all in his power to prevent my death, he can go back to Rivendell. There are four others who can give him what he needs, and who will do so if he can convince them that he did not kill me or cause my death through disloyalty or cowardice. He can also prolong the time he has if he allows himself to be taken by others; this is a side-effect of the spell. But only those four back in Rivendell can save him.”  
  
He felt more than saw Legolas beside him pale and gave him an nearly imperceptible shake of his head. He knew only too well why that was not an option any longer, but this was neither the place nor the time to explain about _that_. And besides, there _were_ other options... but he did not care to explain _**those**_ to the Fellowship in detail, either. Seemingly dispassionately, he continued:  
  
“So, if I am killed, Legolas will have to travel back to Rivendell and give himself into the care of Lord Elrond, or Glorfindel, or my brothers, and his life will be spared. The same is true when someday it is my time. I can send him back to them, or over the sea, if they have gone that way, if I do not choose to extend the spell to another person to whom I could bequeath him. This person would then become his new master.”  
  
He felt the Elf's sudden shivering under his hand and added reassuringly: “But I don’t plan to do that!”  
  
Legolas breathed easier.  
  
Frodo looked appalled. “You know how to do this? To make... others--”  
  
Aragorn nodded. “Yes. It was necessary as part of my training as a healer. Furthermore, it has allowed me to make sure that there were a few people to whom I could... _entrust_ my Elf if I went into mortal danger and was likely to be killed, or if I had to go somewhere I could not take him with me. I live a dangerous life, and do not wish to be the cause of Legolas' death due to this... regrettable... arrangement.”  
  
Legolas said very softly: “I do not regret it.”  
  
He was punished for his troubles with another squeeze, and Aragorn gave him a censuring glare.  
  
“Be silent!” he commanded quietly. “I told you not to defend me when I don’t deserve it. And you know that I am not proud of this!”  
  
Legolas murmured a soft apology in Sindarin and Aragorn gave him a small, reassuring nod. The Elf fell silent again.  
  
Boromir's face had turned speculative again, and now he gave a small nod.  
  
“Very well. So you have to lie with this slave regularly lest he fall ill and be of no use to us. But it is not fair that you are the only one here on this quest who has somebody to warm your bedding, and we others do not. Also, if you are killed, it follows that we would not only lose you, but also this Elf, for he would need to leave to make it home in time,” he drawled.  
  
“I say, under the circumstances we would be better off if he left right now!” Gimli growled.  
  
Boromir cocked his head. “Maybe. But then the Ranger says that he has considerable fighting skills, and we need his bow. And his keen senses.”  
  
Aragorn gave him a dark look. “There is a hidden meaning to your words,” he said angrily. “It would be better if you would speak openly. What do you suggest?”  
  
Boromir gave the Elf an admiring look-over. “I would suggest that you _share_ ,” he said simply. “You say your Elf needs to be taken, and if he was taken by others than yourself it would prolong the time until he needs you again. So you should share him with us. If you let him lie with us others he would be not as dependent on you.” He narrowed his eyes. Seemingly warming to his train of thought, he continued: “Even more, you say that you can... _**extend**_ the number of people who can give him what he needs as well as you. So I would suggest you do so with all of the Fellowship, or at least with all of us who are willing. Then Legolas could continue to accompany us even if you were killed, and could fulfill his duty to the Ring Bearer in full.”  
  
It was the first time since he had learned of Legolas' true status that he used the Elf's name. Legolas head had shot up in alarm at his words, and he looked both aghast and mortified. Gimli looked taken aback. Obviously, _this_ was _**not**_ what he had envisioned when he had started his train of thought.  
  
Aragorn jumped up. He seemed ready to draw on the Gondorian or to kill him with his bare hands. Boromir jumped up also to meet the challenge. But Gandalf quickly rose and stepped between them.  
  
 _“This is not the time to fight amongst ourselves!”_ he commanded. “And I think, as grave as these circumstances are, it is Legolas place to decide in this.” He turned directly to the Elf. “What do you say? Do you wish to return to Rivendell?”  
He knew very well that Legolas could hardly go to _Rivendell_ , but he suspected that among those _'others'_ Aragorn had mentioned were some of his Rangers. Legolas would probably be safe among them.  
  
Legolas swallowed. “It... is for my master to decide, Mithrandir,” he said quietly.  
  
The wizard shook his head. “It is _**your**_ bow and _**your**_ body that are in question,” he replied. “Aragorn has done quite enough in this. It is your choice to make: return to Rivendell or go on with this quest.”  
  
Legolas looked up and glanced first at Aragorn, then at Boromir. It was not the first time he had been forced to share his body with others than the Ranger. And he did not wish to think about the consequences for his home and his people if he turned tail now. Elrond would certainly be pleased.  
  
“I have pledged my bow to Frodo,” he finally hesitantly said, “so if my master will allow it, I will go on.”  
  
Gandalf sighed. He turned around again to face the man of Gondor. “Boromir of Gondor, it is a shameful bargain that you suggest!” he said angrily. “I would advise you to withdraw it!”  
  
But he was contradicted.  
  
“It is not shameful!” Gimli suddenly piped up. “That Elf is a slave, after all, and accustomed to sharing his body with others at need, as we have heard. And Boromir is right. The more people who can give him what he needs to survive if Aragorn should fall, or even just is wounded on this quest, the more he can be of use to us if he is any good with this bow of his. I say we should heed Boromir's suggestion!”  
  
Frodo shook his head.  
  
“I will take no part in this!” he exclaimed. “Nor I!” Sam added promptly. But he looked longingly at the Elf and studied him with newfound curiosity. Sam loved Elves, he admired everything Elvish, and now, for the very first time, he faced the real possibility not only to look from afar and ask a bunch of questions, but be allowed to touch! With all his loyalty to Frodo, it was hard for him to entirely decline the chance.  
  
But while Sam's loyalty to Frodo won over his curiosity, Merry and Pippin did not join their vote, and Boromir smirked. Finally, Gandalf sighed, disgusted. “The darkness is nearer than I thought,” he said. “I, too, will have no part of this! But it is clear that the Fellowship is of a divided mind in this regard.”  
  
Aragorn gave Gimli and Boromir a disgusted look. Then he looked down at Legolas. Finally, he sighed.  
“Very well,” he said. “If Legolas is willing you may have a share of him. But we will have to see that he is not exhausted. And it will be _**me**_ who will be the judge of that!” he angrily concluded.  
  
The Elf paled visibly. But then, he merely lowered his head in defeated submission.  
  
Turning back to Gimli and Boromir, Aragorn continued: “Also, I will make sure that you both can give him what is needed if some ill should befall me. You, too!” he said aggressively to the two Hobbits, but Merry and Pippin looked appalled and shook their heads.  
  
“I... Maybe... we just--” Merry sputtered, and Pippin chimed in: “It is not that, master Strider, if you don’t mind. I.. we would... maybe, if Legolas was willing... share a night with him... but not like that! We do not practice slavery in the Shire, and I do not want to have a personal slave for myself, Elven or otherwise!”  
  
Legolas send him a veiled look and a small, grateful smile. Aragorn sighed.  
  
“Very well. Just Boromir and Gimli, then. I suggest, we hurry, though. It is still a long day's travel until dark, and we need to find a protected place for the night to perform the... ceremony, if we want to broaden the spell.”  
  
“So?” Boromir asked. “And what would be required for that?”  
  
Aragorn gave him a dark look.  
  
“It is required that you take him!” he said angrily and curtly.  
  
  
_________________0_________________  
  
  
It was close to nightfall when they finally made camp. Aragorn found a small, protected hill, surrounded by great boulders and some bushes, that could be easily guarded and protected, and also could be easily separated into two camps. Bushes and boulders formed two natural clearings in the middle of a circle, and Aragorn decided to use the bigger one for the main camp and the smaller for their other plans that night. There was no water near, but they had well filled their water skins at the brook near which they had spent the midday rest that day. Aragorn had made sure to fill his own water skin to the brink, although that meant he had to carry the full and heavy skin all day in addition to all his other gear. But he had insisted, and refused to let his slave share the load for a few hours, even though Legolas had dutifully offered to carry it for him.  
  
His master had sadly shaken his head at the offer. “You need your strength tonight, _melethron_ ,” he said. “Let me do this.”  
  
Legolas had not insisted, nor had he offered again.  
  
  
The Elf had been very quiet the whole afternoon, and during the last few hours he had hardly left his master's side. He was obviously nervous. Aragorn looked carefully at him, judging his mood; then he shooed the Hobbits away to the bigger clearing between the boulders and touched his slave's arm, signaling him to stay close to him for a moment.  
  
“Are you ready?” he asked quietly in Sindarin.  
  
Legolas ducked his head.  
  
“It is not my place to choose what to do in this, master,” he said very quietly in the same language. Aragorn heard the reluctance and slight bitterness in his voice although the Elf kept his tone carefully neutral.  
  
He seized the chin of his slave and tipped it slightly up, forcing the Elf to face him.  
  
“I told you not to call me that,” he softly rebuked.  
  
Legolas ducked his head again and refused to look at him.  
  
 _“But you are,”_ he said, “It is not my place to choose what use you make of my body. Or what use the rest of the Fellowship will make of it.” The bitterness was now clearly palpable in his voice.  
  
Aragorn hesitated, then placed a small kiss on the Elf's forehead.  
  
“I know this is hard on you. And the Valar know I am not an easy master. But Boromir is right, you know. That cursed spell is a threat to your life, and to the success of the Quest should anything happen to me. It will be best if you are able to get relief and healing from other sources beside me. As we have done with Halbarad and Onogdir.”  
  
Very hesitantly, Legolas looked up. “Halbarad and Onogdir are not cruel, Aragorn. They took good care of me for several months when you were in Harad, and afterwards when you traveled to Mordor alone, and they never hurt me once. And they never used me for their own amusement.”  
  
Aragorn buried his hands in the golden tresses of his Elf and pulled him close. For a moment he just held him like this, burying his nose in his slave's hair and savoring its softness and well known scent; then his grip tightened just a bit too firmly, and Legolas gasped at its sudden harshness that held the mere whispers of promised pain. Aragorn placed a kiss on his Elf's head, then pulled back a bit so he could see the slave's face.  
  
“Be careful what you call your betters, Little Leaf,” he warned. “Boromir is not cruel – or at least he is not intentionally so. As for Gimli, I will not allow him to hurt you.”  
  
Then he loosened his grip and looked away. “As for me--” He let go of his slave's hair and did not speak further.  
  
Legolas dared to step closer. Very hesitantly, he began to speak, not sure if he would be allowed to do it. Aragorn seemed in a dark and brooding mood tonight and dangerous to upset. Still...  
  
“Aragorn, with you it is different. I _belong_ to you. And I know your needs. It... is your _right_ to use me as you choose, and my duty to serve you, and I... can adjust to it. But... I fear the Dwarf.” He swallowed. “And that man of Gondor. They hate me!”  
  
Aragorn did not rebuke him this time. He shook his head.  
  
“They do not hate you,” he said. “Boromir is angry because of what he perceives as a slight to his pride and station. He is wroth because I did not tell him outright that you are my servant and therefore he has treated you as his equal. He will learn to respect you; he does not feel it beyond him to talk with Sam as an equal after all. And Gimli just does not trust Elves. He will learn to trust you in time, and will put his prejudices behind him.”  
  
Legolas ducked his head.  
  
“Sam is not a slave,” he pointed out hesitantly. “He may be Frodo's servant, but he's free. And the Dwarf will enjoy having an Elf to harass and torment.”  
  
Aragorn straightened up, his face darkening, and Legolas braced himself for a blow. But the blow did not come.  
  
“Maybe,” Aragorn said more harshly. “But as you said, it is not your place to choose, and it is your duty to deal with whatever use I choose to make of you. _So do it!_ Go now and gather firewood, then prepare this place here for the ceremony. I will help the others to build camp on the other side of these boulders. We will extend the spell here, then join camp with the others. And hurry; it will be completely dark very soon!”  
  
Legolas hung his head. He should have known that his luck – and Aragorn's indulgent mood – could not last. “Yes, My Lord,” he answered and made to slip away. But before he could go a hand sneaked out and held him in a tight grip.  
  
“I will _not_ allow the Man or the Dwarf to hurt you,” Aragorn growled in a low voice. “At least not more than is necessary.” Legolas shivered but stayed obediently in his master's grip. Aragorn stepped close again and seized his chin. He took the mouth of his slave in a deep, demanding kiss. Legolas opened up to him obediently, and Aragorn tasted him thoroughly. Then he let him go.  
  
“Trust me,” he said finally, then he sent his slave away with a small slap to his ass.  
  
Legolas slipped away. He shivered again, and his heart hurt. He had rarely seen Aragorn – _Estel!_ \- this dark before, and this thoughtlessly cruel. Even in his worst mood and his most cruel games, Aragorn had usually at least been mindful and considerate of what he put his Elven slave through and what this slave might feel. _Until that last night in Rivendell..._ but _that_ had been about _survival_.  
  
Obviously, things had changed.  
  
With this bleak thought, Legolas left the camp to do as he was ordered. Aragorn followed him a moment with his gaze, then he turned around. He found both Frodo and Gandalf watching him.  
  
He shrugged at them and went around the boulders to the site of the main camp to help Sam unpack the pony.  
  
  
______________ o _________________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Edhel – Sindarin_ : an Elf, one of the Eldar (High Elves, or People of the Stars).


	26. Extending The Spell

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions.  
  
 **Special warnings for this chapter** : _**gang-rape; foursome**_ (two Men and a Dwarf with one hapless Elf).  _I mean it!_ If you do _not_ want to read this, you might try skipping this chapter and read on with chapter XXV, "Repercussions"; there it should be safe to read again. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXIV. Extending the Spell**  
  
  
It took them barely an hour to set up camp, gather firewood, build a small fire, divide the watches and have Sam start to prepare some dinner. They were just a fortnight from Rivendell and had not yet met any hints of spies from the enemy, and so they deemed themselves reasonably safe, but it would never do to be unwary. Still, the first watches would belong to Gandalf and the Hobbits this night, for the warriors of their little group had other things to do.  
  
While they prepared their bedrolls and their camp, Aragorn constantly felt Frodo's eyes on him. The Ring Bearer watched the Ranger with a mixture of new wariness and barely hidden horror.  
  
Legolas turned up to add some more firewood to their small stock and take one of the blankets. Aragorn shook his head and said something in Sindarin, and the Elf looked up at him a bit startled, but then only bowed at him obediently. He took another blanket from the pack and vanished behind the bushes and the boulder that separated the two sites of the camp.  
  
Finally Frodo found his courage and approached the Ranger.  
  
"Do you really think it wise to separate the camps, ...Strider?" he said carefully. "Two camps will be harder to guard."  
  
Aragorn was busy sorting through his medicine pack. He gave the Hobbit a veiled look. There was more to this, he knew, but he decided to wait until Frodo was ready.  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"It is just for the evening," he said. "When we are finished with the ... _ceremony_ , we will all come to this side."  
  
Frodo flinched and looked down to his feet.  
  
"It... _**It's not right!!**_ " he finally blurted out. "I watched Legolas all day. He is scared! And to force him to offer himself like this... to people he doesn't want... How can this be right!?"  
  
Aragorn sighed. He left his pack alone and knelt beside the Hobbit. "Frodo," he began, "I know this must seem horrible to you and must be quite a shock. But it is necessary for Legolas' protection. Boromir is right! I do not like it, and I hate to put Legolas through this, but he has a point. This is a dangerous quest. Legolas is bound to me. Should I die or be grievously wounded, his life would be in danger. It is important that his survival does not completely depend on me!"  
  
He made a face.  
  
"Yet I regret deeply now that I did not do it sooner. I should have told all of you about a week or so after we left Rivendell, and after I made sure that Boromir and Legolas performed some sparring matches together and encountered each other as warriors. Then I could have told the Fellowship about Legolas' predicament without them ever learning that he is not only bound to me because he is a hostage and under the spell, but is indeed my slave and property as well. We could have pretended that aside of his dependence he submits himself to me and follows my command out of his own free will."  
  
Frodo wrinkled his brows. He frowned. "Why should you have wished to do that?" he asked. "Why did you wish to hide he is a slave?"  
  
Aragorn gazed over to Boromir and Gimli.  
  
"Because of Boromir!" he said quietly. "He is all too taken with his pride and station. He has never seen Legolas fight, has never seen his fierce deadliness in any battle, and never came to owe him his life several times over, as do I. He just sees his beautiful face and his lithe body and desires him, and he just sees him as a slave and bed toy now. And he disdains him for that." He shook his head. "And that Dwarf will not forsake any chance to harass and torment the Elf, now he knows him unable to fight back."  
  
Frodo's frown deepened. "Until now Legolas has not seemed helpless against Gimli's scorn and attempts to harass him to me," he said. "I seem to remember him quite capable of holding his own."  
  
Aragorn snorted. "Yes, he was!" he said, "Because he knew the Dwarf had no call to harass him and I allowed him to fight back. But now? Now that Gimli knows Legolas is a slave he will no longer accept any words of disdain, any mocking or any retaliation by one whom he sees as being of considerably lower station than his own. He is a free Dwarven warrior, after all, and Legolas is but a slave who is permitted to carry weapons. That is the way he will see it now."  
  
He sighed bitterly.  
  
" _That_ is the reason I decided to pretend that Legolas and I were only comrades and lovers when we began this quest, not a master and his slave. But now? Gandalf is right, this cursed spell is evil and nothing good will ever come of it. Yet Legolas is bound to it without escape, and I am bound to make sure he doesn't die from it. And since there is no way to set him free, I have to do anything in my power to ensure his survival, even if it means putting him through this accursed ... _ritual_ ... again."  
  
He looked away. Without another word he turned back to his pack, gathered a few things and stood up.  
  
"Excuse me, Master Hobbit," he said courteously and grimly, "it is time!" And with that he signaled Boromir and Gimli to follow him, took his heavy water skin and some cloth and left the main camp through the bushes to the smaller one.  
  
  
___________________ o _________________  
  
  
Legolas shivered. He waited for them in the other camp, kneeling on a blanket he had spread on the grassy ground. He had already discarded his weapons, which rested neatly some distance apart yet still in easy reach. A few steps away from the blanket he had built a small fire, with some firewood resting beside it, and on one side of the blanket rested a small, empty bowl and a pestle. His head was bowed and he did not look up as his master and his two companions entered the clearing.  
  
Aragorn stepped close and squatted down before him. Gently he touched his cheeks, his sensitive ears, then traced the neck down to his shoulders. Finally he tipped his chin up and kissed him.  
  
"Don't be scared," he whispered to him, "Trust me!"  
  
Then he let him go and commanded a bit louder: "Undress."  
  
Swallowing, the Elf bowed his head again and began slowly to take off his clothes. The vambraces came first, then the tunic and shirt. All clothes were folded neatly and set beside his weapons. Finally, he slipped out of his boots, leggings and the loincloth that he wore around his groin. Placing them on the neat bundle of his other clothes, he went back to the blanket and knelt down again in glorious nakedness, head bowed in shame.  
  
It was not Aragorn's presence that had him embarrassed. His master had seen him in every state of nakedness and arousal, and he _belonged_ to him. But to be forced to present himself like this to this other Adan, the man of Gondor, who stood on one side of the fire and devoured him with hungry eyes full of desire, was something completely different. And on the other side of the small fire stood the Dwarf. He watched him with an unreadable expression. Hunger? Hate? Disdain? Legolas did not know and could not discern it. Shivering again, he waited for Aragorn to begin the ritual that would bind him to these two besides his master.  
  
Aragorn stepped in front of him again. He had discarded his weapons and set them beside those of his Elf, and now he carried the small, earthen bowl. He used the pestle to grind something within it. Legolas shuddered at the familiar and hated scent.  
  
 _Eredh Saew'ador (1)!_ The main component of the spell that caused his body to produce the deadly poison that would kill him if he was not taken by those who could provide the antidote with their essence. He wondered at the number of seeds Aragorn would use to renew the spell this time. The amount of the poison used would determine how regularly he needed to be taken to avoid growing ill. It would not be less often; there was no way to unravel the tightness of the bond. Unfortunately, there also was no way to extend the spell to others who could give him what he needed without winding it more tightly, either. Whatever the amount of poison Aragorn would use, he would need him more often after this. He began to tremble in earnest.  
  
Aragorn knelt down in front of him. "Shh, _melethron_ ," he said in Sindarin, "I will wind it just barely tighter than it is. Trust me! I know this is hard on you, but you can do this, and it's for the best."  
  
Aloud and in Common speech he explained: "This is one of the main components of the spell. It is a plant that causes his body to need us. The number of seeds used will determine how often he needs us to take him. I am using seven seeds. That means he will need to be taken by one of us at least once a week, and possibly more often, before he starts to go into withdrawal. One of us has to lie with him and to give him his essence at least once a week after this night."  
  
He set the little bowl aside, added a few drops of oil and mixed the components carefully to a smooth, bright red paste.  
  
Boromir watched him with interest. "One of us?" he asked, "Or all?"  
  
The Dwarf added, a bit red in his face: "And what do you mean by giving him his essence?"  
  
Aragorn gave him an ironical glance. _'A bit late to play the naive, Master Dwarf!'_ he thought, but nevertheless he answered: "One of us once a week will be enough to keep Legolas alive after this night, but this is just what he will absolutely need to avoid withdrawal. If he is taken by more of us and more often it will be better for him and improve his health. That is the point of the ritual."  
  
"It causes the victim to get addicted to his master, who abuses him," the Dwarf translated with awed disgust.  
  
Aragorn turned to him. "Exactly, Master Dwarf. And 'giving him your essence' means that you have to spill your seed. Within his body. Like you would take a women of your people."  
  
He knew his words were brutal and crude, but so was the whole ritual. Legolas was completely pale and stiff with fear and anticipation now and Aragorn set the bowl aside and placed a soothing hand on his slave's arm.  
  
Boromir snorted. Gimli was bright red. He muttered something indiscernible, that sounded like _"what would **you** know of our women"_ , but Aragorn wasn't sure. It seemed to him the dear Master Dwarf was having second thoughts already.  
  
Boromir rescued Gimli by asking: "And how, pray, is this _ritual_ done?"  
  
He nodded at the little bowl now resting beside the kneeling Elf.  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. "First I will give Legolas a drug that contains the other component of the spell. Then I will have to insert this paste into his body, and finally, Boromir, we have to take him, one after the other, and give him our essence. This will complete the bond." He gave the man of Gondor a hard stare. "Afterwards, Legolas will need us."  
  
He felt his slave shiver under his hand and said very quietly and in Sindarin: "Hush! Do not fear! This is for your good, Little Leaf. Trust me!"  
  
Legolas held his head bowed and swallowed hard. He was breathing hard and fighting to compose himself, but with little success. Aragorn drew his brows together and started to pet him. Inwardly he cursed himself. He had not realized that Legolas would have such a hard time bearing this.  
  
Behind him, Boromir asked dumbfounded: "That – is all there is to it?"  
  
Distracted and a little annoyed Aragorn snapped: "Yes, Boromir, _that_ is all there is to it, at least to an _extension_ of the spell to others. I suppose there has to be more the first time it is cast! Anyway, this is what we will do. And it is much easier to do it when Legolas is aroused and not frozen and stiff with fear like now. So I suggest you come here and start to get familiar with him!" He felt his slave jerk a little and soothed again: "Shh. Be still. Don't fear! Let him do this!"  
  
Legolas suppressed a sob. Behind him, Aragorn could hear Boromir gasp. "You mean... _really_?" The Ranger just nodded, not breaking his concentration on his slave, and continued to speak quiet, soothing words in Sindarin.  
  
  
Boromir swallowed hard and stepped closer. Carefully he knelt down beside the naked Elf, an expression of raw hunger on his face. Astonishingly gently he began to touch the shuddering body, first the arms, then the shoulders, the face, the muscled, flat, well defined and hairless chest. He looked captured in wonder. Very softly his hands moved down at the side of Legolas' body, towards the slightly spread thighs, but he stopped short of the flat, lifeless Elfhood of the shivering slave. Carefully he trailed his hand back up to the bowed head and gently parted the blond mane that covered the face, small intricate braids and all, and tucked it back behind the Elf's shoulders and his ears. He discovered the Elf was weeping. Guilt kindled within his soul and nagged at his conscience. Obviously, the slave did _not_ enjoy the experience. Yet some other part of him, located closer to his groin, was eagerly assuring him that everything was all right. _After all this Elf was just a pleasure slave and accustomed to sharing his body. And Aragorn had offered, had he not? And he had said the Elf may even **need** this... _  
  
Boromir was a hard and proven warrior who was not shy to take what he felt was his due, but in bed he preferred gentleness. And yet he felt that by now it was far too late to back out again. So he decided to be as gentle as he could.  
  
"Shh, don't be afraid," he said, "I won't hurt you!" He regretted he could not say it in Elvish, since Aragorn continued to murmur quietly in that tongue, but after all the Elf normally spoke and understood Common well enough.  
  
Carefully wiping the tears away with his thumbs, he placed his lips on the enticing ones of his partner, kissing, then licking along them and tasting their softness. Under his lips, the slave obediently opened his mouth and Boromir tasted sweetness. Meanwhile, his fingers explored the delicate, pointed ears and wondered at their form. He traced one of the ears, following the leaf-like shape, and felt how Legolas caught his breath and leaned into his touch. He grinned. So _this_ was the secret of how one aroused an Elf! Experimentally, he petted the captured ear a bit more between his fingers and felt the lithe body react to his touch. He kissed the Elf once more, deep and demanding, then he let him up for air and moved on to the ear, licking and exploring it with his tongue, and finally he started to nibble. Legolas flinched, then he whimpered softly and started to stammer words in his own melodic Elven tongue which Boromir could not understand. But he understood the tone and it did not sound afraid or dismayed now, but rather begging for more.  
  
Aragorn had long since moved away and left him the place in front of the Elf. Boromir used the opportunity to move close and hug the lithe body to himself. One of his hands trailed over the well defined shoulder blades and followed the curve of the spine down to the small of the back, finally exploring and massaging the tight muscled cheeks of the ass; the other hand trailed down at Legolas' front, followed the lines of his chest and found one of the delicate nipples.  
  
Boromir gave up teasing the ear and licked down the slender neck of the Elf, kissing and nibbling along the way. He played with the nipple under his fingers, feeling it harden. Satisfied, he stopped caressing the sensitive body part and his hand trailed further down between Legolas' thighs and finally touched his groin.  
  
To his satisfaction, he found the slender member had stirred with arousal and was now at least half erect. Gently, but firmly, he began to touch and massage it. A word from Aragorn, who was by now standing beside the Elf, and the slave opened his thighs further apart, giving Boromir better access. Then Aragorn was at the other side of the Elf, concentrating his attentions on Legolas' other ear.  
  
By now the Elf was again breathing hard, but now it was obviously with arousal. Boromir felt the slender member under his fingers slowly grow and fill out. He stole another kiss, and this time he was hungrily welcomed, finding the mouth and tongue of the slave eager to play.  
  
Then Aragorn was beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him gently away.  
  
Aragorn took a small skin, uncorked it and held it to Legolas' lips. "Drink!" he commanded quietly in Common Speech, "Three sips!"  
  
Legolas was back to shivering again, but he obeyed. Aragorn counted, then he wound the mouth piece away and corked the skin up again. He set it aside, leaned close and kissed his Elf deeply.  
  
Legolas shrank back and tried to turn his mouth away, then he said something in Elvish and tried to escape Aragorn's grip of his face. Aragorn seized his chin and held him firmly in place. He shook his head and said something in the same language, then he claimed the Elf's mouth again with his own. Legolas gave up and opened for him obediently.  
  
Aragorn savored the kiss, then he signaled Boromir to continue his attentions and went back to lick and nibble at one of Legolas' ears. Boromir saw that he had seized the small bowl and brought it around to the Elf's backside. Aragorn coated one of his fingers with the paste and brought it to Legolas' entrance.  
  
Legolas flinched and gasped as a finger with the burning paste touched his opening. His instinctive reaction was stopped by a sharp bite to his ear and a hard hand on his shoulder. He gasped.  
  
"Be still!" Aragorn commanded. "Lean forward!"  
  
The Elf obeyed, but he was shuddering. Aragorn told Boromir: „Hold him fast. This will hurt!"  
  
Boromir was stunned. „Hurt him? Why?" he asked. "He is eager with desire, now!"  
  
Aragorn looked grim. "The paste will burn," he said, "and I have to place it deep inside. I will have to use my whole hand."  
  
  
Boromir's eyes widened. He took both shoulders of the Elf and pulled him gently, but determinedly to himself, hugging him close. Then he pressed Legolas' face to his own shoulder and began to mumble gentle nothings into the closest delicate ear, nibbling and kissing, while he held the shivering body firmly in his arms. With morbid fascination he watched as Aragorn inserted first one, then a second finger into the opening of the Elf.  
  
Legolas whimpered and clutched himself to him. He cried with pain, trying to hold still as he had been ordered, but jerking involuntarily at the burning intrusion.  
  
Then suddenly the Dwarf was beside them and took one of the slender hands of the Elf, holding it firmly. His other hand petted gently over the golden hair and found the other ear. His callused fingers explored the delicate form carefully and obviously intrigued.  
  
  
Legolas felt the familiar fingers of his master intruding into his body. The burning irritant hurt him immensely, but at the same time he was eager for every touch and caress, even for the pain, because of the _**need**_ caused by the _sogo nen anira (2)_ Aragorn had given him. This drug, the other component of the spell, caused the lasting addiction to his master's touch and the desperate _**need**_ to be taken. Aragorn had given him three sips, because he was to be bound to three different males. But then Aragorn had kissed him while traces of the poison still lingered in his mouth.  
  
Legolas had tried to warn him, had tried to stop him, but to no avail. Aragorn had insisted. And that meant that he had bound himself to everything he would get of his slave this night: his fear, his lust, his pain, his desperation, his humiliation and his obedient acceptance. Aragorn would desire it all, more than before. _Again_.  
  
His master would not need to take him to stay healthy or alive; _that_ part of the spell belonged just to the slave. But he would desire the helpless submission and obedience of his Elven slave, his fear and pain, like the most potent drug. And in turn he would be content with no less. It had been Estel's mistake from the start. He had been eager to bind himself as tightly to his Elf as his slave was bound to him, and had never understood that Elrond used this eagerness to twist his desire and strengthen his slightly cruel streak to the point where he could not be satisfied without it.  
  
 _And now he had done it again_. Aragorn would need to be even more cruel to find pleasure in his slave after tonight. Legolas shuddered again, and not only from the pain that burned in his anus. He did not even find the strength to mourn the Estel he had once known - and loved - any more.  
  
He swallowed and clutched himself to the other Adan. The paste burned, and worse yet he felt that Aragorn had kept his ring on when he entered him. The delicate metal of Barahir's ring scratched and sliced him open where it came into contact with his channel, leaving tiny wounds that were aggravated by the paste and burned even more. Legolas muffled his cries and sobs of pain in Boromir's shoulder. He knew it was not mere thoughtless cruelty of Aragorn; the small wounds were necessary to ensure the poison of the paste, and later the essence of the ones who took him, would take hold within the slave's body and blood and the spell would work. At least Aragorn was not using the hideous, specially prepared staff Elrond preferred to use for this. But nevertheless it hurt and Legolas began to cry again.  
  
Then Aragorn withdrew only to enter him again with one more finger and a new amount of paste. Then Aragorn found the gland that was the center of both Legolas' pain and pleasure, and rubbed the burning paste methodically into his slave's sweet spot, slightly slicing it with one of his fingernails to make sure the poison could take hold. Pain and pleasure alike exploded in Legolas' head and he cried out again, then gasped and stiffened. He could hear Aragorn's hard breathing in response and understood. His master would not hurt him with his normal practices in front of the others. Aragorn did not wish them to believe pain was one of the things Legolas needed. But to take him Aragorn had to get aroused, and it was _this_ , his pain and helpless wriggling, that caused his master's desire and arousal.  
  
Then Aragorn added the fourth finger and Legolas started to whimper and try to get away. Boromir held him firmly, and Aragorn laid his hand on the small of his back and commanded hoarsely: "Stop it! Be still! Open up to me! This is necessary for the spell to work, and you know it!"  
  
Legolas gasped and tried to obey, but he couldn't. The ache was just too great, and he screamed as the Ranger drove deeper into him, stretching him and rubbing the burning paste into him as he went. Aragorn commanded harshly and in Sindarin: _"Be silent, or I have to gag you!"_  
  
Legolas stopped screaming instantly, but he whimpered in pain. Finally Boromir turned his face within his grip to his own and drank the Elf's constant whimpering in a kiss.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Gimli's hands roamed down from Legolas' hair to his breast and explored the strange, hairless skin. This was the first time he had ever touched an Elf, especially a naked one, and he was curiously fascinated. He found the delicate nipples, hard with arousal, and toyed a bit with them, then he pinched them, hard.  
Legolas jerked and gasped, and Aragorn gasped in response. Gimli cast a sharp glance at the Ranger, but was distracted by Boromir, who kissed the whimpering Elf in his arms again and reassuringly petted his shoulders. Gimli's hands trailed down and explored the shivering torso of the Elf, his powerful thighs, and finally the space between them. Curious, he closed his fingers over the member of the Elf, feeling its texture. Legolas' Elfhood had waned a bit under Aragorn's torment, but was still half erect with arousal and need. Gimli explored it carefully. So slim, so different from his own! He squeezed a bit, experimentally, then slowly and carefully began to massage the slave, feeling the member wax again under his attentions.  
  
He did not give in to the brief temptation to cause pain. It was true, he had suggested all of this to humiliate the Elf, but it had turned out to be far more horrible than he ever had imagined. It was one thing to humiliate and harass an equally strong foe with words and pranks, but to outright torment a helpless victim was another. And it was not as if the slave was able to fight back! Yet it was too late for Gimli son of Gloin to back out now. He had brought this dishonor on himself and now he was bound to continue. All he could do was to try not to cause even more suffering, even if the Elf remained strange to him, the son of a hated foe of his family, and an unwanted companion.  
  
Still... the Elf felt curious to his touch, even if his body was hideously hairless and he had no beard. Far too slim and tall to be a beauty, too, to be sure. But he had very nice hair; Gimli admired the golden tresses. Maybe he could indulge a bit if the Elf was truly forced to share some of his nights with him from now. He supposed he could grow to like trying out some new forms of braiding these golden tresses, and it would work to put the Elf into his place quite nicely if he had to wear his hair in Dwarven braiding, too. Gimli did not need to force him to share his body or let himself be raped again after this night.  
  
Nor would he try to make this night's ignoble deed of group rape even more horrible for the victim, even though he was one of the rapists.  
  
  
Boromir did not pay attention what the Dwarf was doing, although he could feel the shivering body in his arms stiffen a bit and then relax again as Gimli's hands reached the Elf's groin. He watched with horrified fascination as Aragorn withdrew his fingers slowly out of the Elf's body and reached for the last portion of the paste. He felt Legolas shiver in his arms. Boromir was already so hard he could barely move, and his still closed leggings were uncomfortably tight. To his amusement he could see that he shared this state of arousal with his would-be king.  
  
  
Aragorn swallowed hard. "It is well, _melethron_ , it will soon be over, we are nearly there," he soothed hoarsely in Sindarin, "you will just have to be brave for me another moment. Just a little more!"  
  
Then he took the widened entrance of his Elf again with his fingers. But this time he did not stop but used the whole hand. Legolas gasped again and nearly screamed, but his cry of anguish was caught in Boromir's mouth. He jerked against the Man of Gondor, then gave in and stilled, allowing his master entrance. Aragorn gasped. He could feel the living sheath of his Elf's body closing around him, could feel him shiver and submit, and it made him giddy with desire. His head swam. Legolas' constant, quiet and helpless whimpering of pain and need, interrupted only when Boromir drank it with his kisses, drove Aragorn mad with need. He felt his manhood leak, so erect he feared he would come then and there. He disciplined himself. It would not do to come outside Legolas' body, not while they did this.  
  
Carefully and mindful not to touch himself too much he used his other hand to free his leaking, erect member from the constricting leggings and coated it with oil. He did not use very much; Legolas' entrance was already slick with blood and with the paste and widened enough that he would not hurt him with his member anyway. But still he wished to make this part pleasant for himself, and if possible, even for his slave. _This_ part of the cruel ritual was supposed to be the part of healing.  
  
"Shh," he soothed again in Sindarin, voice hoarse with passion, "Shh, just a few more moments! Feel it! Yes, like this! Soon now, melethron, very soon... brace yourself.. _thats it! Now!_ "  
  
With that he slowly withdrew his hand, holding the body of his slave down with his other hand so he would not jerk, and wriggled out of the hurting and widened passage.  
  
  
Legolas sobbed and clutched himself to Boromir but tried to hold still. It hurt immensely as his passage was stretched wide again when the main part of his master's hand came out, but then it got better. Then he felt Aragorn's manhood entering him in one, fast thrust, and since he was stretched far beyond its size and the oil lessened the burning of the paste a bit, this brought not pain but relief.  
  
  
Legolas' passage was far too widened due to the recent abuse for Aragorn to feel much, but it was hardly necessary anymore. He had nearly reached completion anyway, and it took just a few more thrusts for him to come. He climaxed, gasping and shouting Legolas' name. Normally he enjoyed staying within Legolas' body for some time after his climax, but this time he withdrew immediately. Stopping his essence with two fingers from running out, he commanded: _"Boromir! Your turn! Now!"_  
  
  
The man of Gondor did not need a second prompting. He let go of the Elven body in his arms, and left him to be supported by the Dwarf; who took over without any comment. Then he changed places with Aragorn. Quickly he freed his manhood of its constrictions and buried himself within the Elf, not even bothering to use any oil.  
  
It was not necessary, though; Legolas' passage was slick with blood, oil, and the paste, and still widened enough not to offer him much resistance. Yet Elven bodies heal quickly, and so the channel had already receded a bit towards its usual size. So it enclosed Boromir a little more tightly than it had enclosed Aragorn, and Boromir felt bliss and the highest pleasure. He stayed his movements for a few moments and gave the passage some more time to adjust, holding his partner close and mumbling sweet nothings into one of his ears. Meanwhile, Aragorn had placed himself in front of Legolas again and took over the supporting part of Gimli, holding his Elf within his arms and murmured soothing endearments in Elvish. Legolas had stopped his whimpering, and slowly he also stopped shivering.  
Boromir took that as a good sign. Slowly and at first tenderly, he began to move within his partner's body, then he quickened his pace, mindful of his partner's reactions. He felt the Elf jerk and gasp as he obviously hit the hidden gland. He had had male partners before, not very often and hardly as intense, but enough to read the signs, and so he adjusted his own angle to make sure to give his partner the maximum amount of pleasure, too.  
  
  
Legolas shouted in surprised pleasure, then his mouth was caught by Aragorn who muffled his noise with a kiss. Aragorn tasted him thoroughly, plundering his mouth and enjoying Legolas' eager and instinctive reaction.  
When he finally stopped the kiss and abandoned Legolas' mouth, he busied himself with one of his ears, then moved down to lick along the neck, tasting in his slave's sweat mixed pain and lust, desperation, hopeless submission, and combined trust and fear. It made him giddy and he felt himself getting aroused again. His hands found Legolas' ears and started to massage them, and he could hear Legolas moan. Smiling, he trailed further down. His mouth found a nipple and he busied himself with giving it his full attention, licking, suckling, nibbling until it was hard and red and erect. Then he bit down a bit harder and heard Legolas gasp, but he was mindful not to draw blood. He soothed the offended body part again with his lips and tongue and moved on to the other one, repeating the process. Finally he let his hands trail down and found the Elf's fully erect member. Gently he guided the hand of the Dwarf away and signaled him to ready himself to change places with Boromir. Then he bowed down and took the member of his Elf into his mouth, sucking and teasing just the way he knew Legolas liked it. He concentrated himself fully on giving his Elven slave as much pleasure as he could manage.  
  
  
Legolas gasped as Boromir climaxed within his body, at the same moment when he himself came within Estel's mouth. He shouted Estel's name and was rewarded when his master's head came up again and took his mouth in a gentle kiss, letting him taste his own essence.  
  
His muddled, fuzzy mind was trying to tell him something, something important, but he could not discern what. He was too caught up in a heady mixture of arousal, hurt and pleasure. Estel let go of his mouth and was replaced by Boromir, who took him with a searing kiss. The man of Gondor finished the kiss, pulled back a little and whispered: "You are beautiful and a wonder. Thank you!"  
  
Dizzy, Legolas wondered at Boromir's gentleness and tender words after his palpable disdain at the beginning of the night, but the thought floated away. The _need_ of the drug still held him in his grip and it was hard for him to concentrate. Then Boromir found himself pushed away by small, callused but surprisingly gentle hands and Legolas felt another body at his back, this one stocky and compact and astonishingly hairy.  
Neither Boromir nor Estel had disrobed for him before they took him, and for a moment he was irritated. Then it dawned to him that it had to be the Dwarven beard that caressed his sensitive skin.  
  
"Come, Master Elf," the Dwarf's gravelly voice said, "it is my turn to give you what you need."  
  
Then, without further ado, Legolas found himself seized by small callused hand on his shoulders and entered by a strangely thick and big, well oiled column of male flesh.  
  
  
Gimli grunted a bit as he buried himself within the bigger body. It was a little awkward, and he decided that if he was to do this again he would have the Elf lying on his stomach or maybe on his back to give him better access. Then he frowned at the thought, because he did not plan that there should be a next time anyway, didn't he? Then his mind was flooded by intoxicating pleasure and he ceased to think completely and began to move. The last thought that crossed his mind was that he just hoped he would not let this Elf capture his heart.  
Dwarves loved only once, and normally if they burned for one they never took another partner. But this was just about the body, and about humiliating a hated Elf, was it not?  
  
His beard got in the way and he took the time to place it over his partner's shoulder. Then he felt slender hands burying themselves in it and holding fast. His partner moved his rear up a bit to meet him and give him better access. Instinct took over and he moved within the living sheath and lost all thought.  
  
  
Legolas gave himself over to this last coupling, grateful for his partner's gentleness and for Estel's presence, who knelt before him and just held him close. The combined essence of Boromir and his master had calmed the burning need caused by the drug a bit, and the oil and cum had worked together to soothe the burning of the paste. Even more, his Elven body had adjusted and the pain of his overstretched passage had receded to an bearable amount again. So this last coupling was pure bliss. He was still too dizzy to think much and just allowed himself to be held and warmed by the reassuring presence of his master in thoughtless trust. Then the Dwarf climaxed and spent himself within him and this third essence closed the developing bond and brought relief to the burning need. It was done. The spell was renewed and extended.  
  
Gimli withdrew. Legolas fell forward into Estel's arms, completely exhausted.  
  
Slowly, the dizziness and fog of the afterglow left his mind and he realized again what they just had done, and what it meant. What Aragorn had done to him, and which bargain he had struck. And how the other two warriors of their group – no, how _all_ the Fellowship, with the possible exception of Mithrandir – would regard him now.  
  
Helplessly, he started to cry.  
  
  
_________________________o ________________________  
  
  
Aragorn caught his slumping slave within his arms and held him fast. Legolas' sudden return to weeping worried him, but he did not wonder at it much. He was all too aware what he had forced him through. So he just held him fast and supported him in his arms, hugged against his chest. Legolas cried, and Aragorn petted him and spoke quiet, soothing words in Sindarin. Legolas didn't answer. He only cried harder.  
  
Boromir came up beside him, still full of afterglow and puzzled and concerned at their partner's reaction. Gimli stood beside him, more solemn and not very surprised.  
  
Aragorn didn't move. He held Legolas patiently and gave both Boromir and Gimli a silent nod, asking them to leave. "Just leave us alone for a bit," he quietly said in Common, "I will join you soon."  
  
Quietly, but still very troubled, Boromir adjusted his clothes and slipped through the bushes to the other part of the camp, where he found he had to endure five angry stares. Gimli adjusted his clothing too, but before he left he stepped silently beside the crying Elf and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, laddie," he said gravely, "You won't have to do this with me anymore unless you direly need it, or if you should want it yourself."  
  
Giving the shivering shoulder under his hand a small squeeze, he left. Legolas uttered a small sob and buried his face in Aragorn's shoulder.  
  
"Shhh," Aragorn soothed. "It is all right, _melethron_ , it is over. I did this for you. There will be more of us now capable of giving you what you need. I would not have you die because of me. You are more safe now!"  
  
When the crying didn't subside he sighed and placed a gentle kiss on the Elf's head. "It is all right, _melethron_. Cry as much as you have to. I am here for you. It is all right." His voice broke. He was all too aware of the irony of his words.  
  
It was long before Legolas finally stopped crying, but after nearly an hour, the sobs slowly subsided and the tears ceased to flow. Aragorn continued to pet him for some time, then he carefully disentangled himself and helped him to settle down on the soiled blanket. He took his water skin and the cloth he had brought and started carefully to wash the grime and fluids off his companion.  
  
"I hope we come across a bigger stream tomorrow," he offered while he worked, "then you can take a bath and wash your hair. For now, I am afraid this will have to do, _melethron_. I am sorry."  
  
Legolas nodded. He remained silent. Aragorn sighed and finished his task. He rubbed his companion dry, then he took the carefully folded clothes of the Elf and handed them to him. "Dress," he said gently, "Then unroll your bedding in the other camp. Tonight your watch is mine. I deem it better that you sleep."  
  
Legolas mumbled a muffled "Thank you, master."  
  
Aragorn took his face into his hands and kissed him gently. It was a chaste kiss for once, just to his forehead.  
  
"Sleep, _melethron_. Tomorrow things will look better," he said tenderly. "I am sorry that we had to do this. But I deem it for the best or I would never have agreed. Yet now you may sleep. We will deal with everything else in the morrow."  
  
Legolas mutely obeyed and dressed himself. Then he gave his master a respectful bow, rose and went over to the other camp.  
  
Aragorn looked after him and sighed again. Then he took the cloth, cleansed himself and arranged his own clothes. He put his things away and eyed his blanket. It was completely soiled. He hoped that if they indeed came across a stream the next day he might be able to wash it there.  
  
He had insisted that Legolas take his master's blanket, not his own, for this, because he knew how much the elf hated to sleep in soiled and reeking beddings. And this night his slave could not climb a tree to find his solace there. He needed to sleep on the ground. So Aragorn resigned himself to sleeping without a blanket tonight. He doubted very much that he would be welcome – or rather, that it would do his slave much good – if he tried to snuggle close to Legolas to share his warmth and bedding.  
  
No, Legolas would not wish him close this night. And while this was normally nothing a slave would be given any leave to decide, in this case Aragorn was mindful of his needs. His slave needed to recover before he could dare to force himself on him again.  
  
Rolling the soiled blanket neatly together, he picked it up, took his other gear and killed the fire. Then he left through the bushes into the main camp.  
  
He found Legolas already sleeping, huddled into his blanket as if it could protect him, well away from the point where Aragorn had earlier placed his pack. The others of the Fellowship were all sleeping as well, or at least they pretended to. Only Boromir sat quietly on one of the boulders, a bit away from the light of the fire so he could better watch the night.  
  
Sighing, Aragorn left his gear and things beside his pack and went over to the Man of Gondor, climbing up onto his lookout and squatting down beside him.  
  
"You have the first watch?" he asked quietly. Boromir nodded. Aragorn acknowledged it with a short nod. "Then I will take the second one. Legolas needs to sleep tonight."  
  
Boromir directed a long look to the sleeping Elf.  
  
"He is so different," he finally said, "I've had a few male lovers before, but this..." he shook his head. "He is a marvel," he concluded his thought. "I am not sure if we did the right thing to force ourselves on him."  
  
Aragorn nearly snorted. _The Man of Gondor was asking himself that **now**? How **very** convenient!_  
  
"Second thoughts already, Boromir?" he challenged. "Yet now it is too late. But do not fear. We _did_ the right thing. You were right: I needed to make sure that he would not fall ill and die if anything should happen to me."  
  
He fell silent a moment. Then he added quietly but fiercely: "Legolas is dear to me, dearer than you can ever know. I will not have him die just because he is bound by that cruel spell. I will do anything in my power to prevent that! And if you are willing to offer your help in that regard, then I will take it. But be warned," he added grimly. "I will hold you to your new responsibility, Boromir of Gondor! Should anything happen to me, should I fall ill or be wounded so Legolas is bereft of my care, and should he die because you choose to neglect your duty, I will see to it that you pay with your life if I am still around to do so! You do not get to lie with him for nothing!"  
  
And with that he turned away, left the stunned Boromir alone and returned to his bedding. Ignoring his reeking blanket he rolled himself into his cloak. For once he chose a place well away from his Elf. Obviously he meant it when he said Legolas needed his sleep.

  
______________ o _____________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC--  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Eredh Saew'ador -- Sindarin_ , literally: Seeds (of) Poison-Prison.  
  
(2) _Sogo nen anira –Sindarin_ : literally: drink (of) water (of) desire


	27. Repercussions

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXV. Repercussions**  
  
  
The following day, Legolas stayed away from both Aragorn and Boromir, as well as from the Dwarf. He did not undertake any scouting either. Instead, he carefully kept all to himself, staying close to Bill the pony and Sam, whom he obviously regarded as the least possible threatening member of the Fellowship right now, since his other option, Mithrandir, walked at the head of the Fellowship and seemed deep in thought. Besides, while Sam was free and not a slave, at least he was a _servant_ , and therefore perhaps a bit more sympathetic to Legolas' situation, or so Legolas hoped. He did not listen to the chatter of the other Hobbits. He did not wish to hear their gossip about him, although his keen hearing would have easily allowed him to eavesdrop. All he could see was their occasional looks at him. He did not know what they were talking about, and he did not care.  
  
It was easy enough to guess, after all. Obviously, they were discussing last night, and he did not wish to learn what they were thinking of him now. And what _could_ they think, after all? He was the whore of the Fellowship now, everyone's lay to take and savour at a whim. Aragorn had made sure of that.  
  
Estel. His mind refused to linger on the thought.  
  
Occasionally he saw one of the other warriors – Boromir, the Dwarf – giving him an assessing look, and shuddered. He refused to look behind him to the rear of the Fellowship at his master.  
  
He was so caught up in his own thoughts, that he missed Frodo watching him closely and with a frown. Then the Ring Bearer gestured his two cousins close to him and held a short conversation. So Legolas missed the forming of a conspiracy directly under his nose.  
  
He was soon confronted with its contents, however, when suddenly he found himself surrounded by all four Hobbits.  
  
"Legolas," Frodo said, "you are from Mirkwood, are you not? Uncle Bilbo told us a lot of his adventures there. Would you mind telling us about your home?"  
  
Legolas looked at him, amazed at his friendly tone. He searched for some disdain or a trap, but he found none.  
  
"Oh, yes, please," Peregrin Took chimed in. "Tell us of the wood! Is it true that there are spiders as big as ponies?" He shuddered visibly at the thought, but seemed eager with curiosity.  
  
"And what about the enchanted River?" Merry asked. "Bilbo told us that anybody who falls into it sleeps a whole day. Is that true? And how did it come to be enchanted?"  
  
"And tell us of your father's palace," Sam Gamgee begged. "'Tis true that it's all underground, like a Hobbit-Smial?"  
  
Legolas looked down at them and gave a surprised laugh. "You wish me to tell you about my home?" he asked.  
  
Four eager faces looked up at him and nodded.  
  
Legolas contemplated them for a moment. He had not been forbidden to speak to other members of the Fellowship by Aragorn, and the questions of the Hobbits seemed sincere enough. Indeed they seemed intent on cheering him up... He paused a moment at this thought, then he felt himself overwhelmed with relief and gratitude. He decided to take them up on their offer of distraction. He laughed again - a joyful laugh this time, delighted and pleased.  
  
"Very well!" he said. "The first thing you should learn is that the name of my wood is not 'Mirkwood'. It was Greenwood, once, Eryn Galen in my tongue, and there are places in my father's realm where it still deserve that name. My father's realm lies in the north of our wood. It is mainly the south of the wood which is encumbered with shadow, and the darkness grows ever worse the closer you come to Dol-Guldur, where the Necromancer took hold – the one we now call Sauron – and spread his malice and his dark creatures. We have fought him ever since he came to our wood, but could scarce hold him back, and his influence on our forest has grown sadly wide. Where he takes hold, the wood is dark and twisted. It is from these parts that our once beautiful wood has gotten the ill name people now know it by."  
  
He looked sad as he told of the darkening of his home. He was tempted to tell them of their long, costly fight, about the loss of warriors and children, about the sorrow of those taken hostage and enslaved, and of the grief of their families and loved ones who they left behind, but he did not wish to spoil their obvious attempt to cheer him up. Also he did not want their inevitable attempts at sympathy, which would only reopen old wounds for him and bring more pain and awkwardness. So he left those sad and painful tidbits out.  
  
Instead he smiled again and said: "But in _our_ realm, the wood is still a place of beauty! There are trees so old that even I feel young against them, since they are twice my age. And clearings full of flowers, and deer and squirrels, birds and other animals aplenty. We live a merry life most of the time!"  
  
"Tell us of your father's halls!" demanded Pippin, and Merry insisted: "What about the river? The one that makes one sleep? Is that tale true? How did it come to be enchanted?"  
  
Legolas grinned. "'Tis true," he answered. "Indeed I had to rescue my sister from it once, and I am told my nephew..."  
  
"You have siblings?" Frodo asked merrily. "Tell us of them!"  
  
Legolas laughed and told them of his last visit at his home in the company of his master, of Aragorn's predicament and unsuccessful attempts to escape the curiosity of a swarm of elflings eager to touch his beard, and of his own father's displeasure and stern look at his grandchildren's odd fascination with a human ranger. In his tale he forgot for a moment the hurt and anger burning in his soul and the humiliation and betrayal he had felt last night. He even cast a mischievous look back at Estel and found him watching them bemused. He looked away and concentrated back on his chat with the Hobbits.  
  
"Estel?" Frodo asked at that moment, "I thought you... usually travel with Strider?"  
  
Legolas discovered only then that, speaking of his home and their visit there, he had naturally fallen into calling Aragorn by the beloved familiar name he still used for the Dunadan who had once won his love and who still owned his heart, although at the moment the thought hurt and brought rather grief and bitterness. He cocked his brow at the Hobbit's delicate wording of his status as Aragorn's slave.  
  
There was hardly any sense in beating around the bushes anymore.  
  
"Aragorn is my master," he said mildly, "I was given to him when he came of age, and have belonged to him ever since. In his youth, he was called Estel; that name was given to him to hide his true identity, since the enemy searched for him, to kill him, and with him his line. In your tongue, the name means 'hope'. He was Estel to me long before I and he himself learned of his true name, and sometimes I call him still by the name I learned first to know him by."  
  
"You knew Estel – I mean, Strider – before you came to him?" Frodo asked.  
  
Legolas nodded. His eyes were awash for a moment with longing and grief, then he shoved these feelings away. _'Twas no use to linger on the past!_ He tried to smooth his face and return his attention to the conversation.  
  
But he was not fast enough to hide his sentiments from his companions.  
  
Frodo looked at him with wise, searching eyes.  
  
"Estel is dear to you, is he not?" he asked quietly.  
  
Legolas looked down to his feet. He said nothing. The other Hobbits kept carefully quiet.  
  
Frodo continued very hesitantly: "I know he has hurt you yesterday, he and... the others. But Estel... Aragorn told me that he did it to keep you safe. He is concerned for you, you know. I think."  
  
The face of the Elf closed up and went blank.  
  
"I am afraid it is not my part to judge the decisions of my master, Master Hobbit," he said carefully and with obvious strain. "Now, if you will excuse me..." he began, looking for a way to end the conversation.  
  
Frodo looked unhappy and uncomfortable. So did Merry and Pippin.  
  
It was Sam who rescued the situation by a most surprising outburst.  
  
" _Bollocks!_ It was evil and selfish what he did, if you get my meaning! _Concern,_ my feet! He gave in to that Gondorian brute like a flap of cloth!" the normally sweet-tempered Hobbit ranted. "He could easily have shown a little more resistance! That--"  
  
 _"--Sam!"_ Frodo stopped his tirade, and Merry and Pippin, alarmed and concerned at Legolas' sad expression, looked around to see whether the two Men and the Dwarf had heard the conversation.  
  
Sam blushed furiously and looked down.  
  
"Sorry, master Frodo!" he said, chastised, "It just makes me so angry, is all!"  
  
Legolas decided to come to his aid.  
  
"I thank you for your concern, Master Hobbit," he said carefully, "It is true that I have belonged to my master... Aragorn... for a long time. And he has my loyalty. Even... even if I may not always like... his decisions, and they are not always ...easy.. on me."  
  
He looked bleak.  
  
Frodo shook his head. He decided to get to the point.  
  
"I just want you to know, Master Elf, that we do not regard you differently after what happened last night. To us you are our comrade, one of the Fellowship and a trusted companion, and we are glad to have your company. It does not matter to us if you are free or not, and if you are Aragorn's servant. Sam here is my servant and is nothing less to me because of it, nor would we ever treat him less than as an equal. So we will treat you. I am glad you offered your bow to us, and my cousins and I will be glad for your company, your keen senses, and your songs, and would not like to lose you!"  
  
The other Hobbits nodded.  
  
"Nor I," Merry said, and "-- nor I," added Pippin.  
  
"--And me neither," Sam concluded. "Just tell me if you need a break from those stupid big people groping you! I will be glad to give them a piece of my mind, using a club!"  
  
The image of Aragorn, or Boromir, helplessly trying to escape the attacks of the angry Hobbit while trying to avoid hurting him held such an amount of sheer absurdity and humor that Legolas could not help himself. He gave another pearly laugh.  
  
"You have my thanks, oh my most valiant defender and gallant Hobbit," he said merrily. "I doubt that it will have to come to that, for I hope Estel will keep all this to a point where I can cope, but if in need I shall remember your gallant offer and ask for your defense. I am glad to find such generous companions in you!" he concluded, addressing them all.  
  
Sam was still a bit red around the ears. The other Hobbits smiled.  
  
"It is not just him, you know," Merry said, "you can count on us, too. But if you were willing to indulge, we'd like to learn some more about your home."  
  
"And your other travels with Aragorn. Have you seen much of the world?" Pippin piped up.  
  
Frodo gave him a censuring glare, but Legolas shrugged. "Much," he answered. "I accompanied him nearly everywhere save when he went to Harad and Mordor alone, once. What do you wish to be told about first? Of my fair woods or about our travels?"  
  
There was a short conference. The Hobbits decided to indulge in stories of the Wood for starters, and tales of Legolas' and Strider's travels later, and so the Elf patiently obliged and favored them with explanations of some details from Bilbo's tales and with his own stories of the forest. So deeply were they all involved in their merry chatter that they did not see at first that they had drawn some company of a less welcome kind.  
  
  
____________ o _____________  
  
  
Gimli had slowly ventured closer to the chattering group and had listened to Legolas' retelling of Bilbo's tale of his time in the Wood with growing anger. It rankled him how merrily that Elf told the tale of the slight done to Gimli's own father Gloin and Thorin's company! More and more his mind was engulfed by dark, boiling anger.  
 _That Elf needed a lesson! After all he was merely a slave, was he not? – It was time, perhaps, to remind him of that fact, then!_  
  
Finally, the Dwarf decided to make his presence known and put that insolent Elven slave back into his place!  
He harrumphed.  
  
The Hobbits and the Elf all turned to him, visibly startled. Obviously they had not heard him come. The Dwarf smirked derisively.  
  
"So much for your so-called _keen senses,_ " he challenged the Elf, " _'The eyes and ears of the Fellowship',_ as you were praised! What a mockery! But then, we learned yesterday that you have mainly other talents, did we not? I suppose that is all right, then!"  
  
Legolas paled. The Hobbits glared at the Dwarf.  
  
Gimli didn't relent. "Cease your idle chatter for a moment, _slave,_ " he snarled. "I wish for a refreshment, and our main water supply rests on the back of our pony. Get it and hand me a drink, if you will!"  
  
Legolas swallowed. _So it began._  
  
Merry was the first to lose his temper.  
  
"Why don't you go and get it for yourself?" he retorted angrily, "Or did you suddenly shrink in your sleep so you need help to reach it?!"  
  
Legolas uttered a startled "Merry!", but the Halfling did not seem inclined to back down.  
  
The Dwarf glared at the challenging Hobbit. "Be glad that I don't make a habit of fighting those who are no warriors, Master Hobbit, except if they be vermin of the enemy," he drawled, "or you would feel my axe. That Elf is a _slave,_ is he not? Then let him fulfill his duties, as of now, to serve his betters!"  
  
Merry made to round on him, but Legolas placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "It is all right," he said quietly, "do not provoke him further."  
  
Then he reached over to the pony, took the water skin and a leather cup and filled a drink. Closing the skin and replacing it on the beast, he handed the cup to the Dwarf.  
  
"Here you go, Master Dwarf," he said, "since you demand it. Yet until now I thought the rationing of our supplies in Master Gamgee's hands, and not at the whim of anyone who wanted a share of his own between meal times."  
  
The Dwarf drank. Then he dropped the cup and slapped at the Elf. Legolas danced out of the way. The Dwarf fumed.  
  
"You have no call to contradict your betters, _slave!_ " he snarled. "I believe you lost some of our equipment! Pick it up!" He hefted his axe, planning to hit the Elf with the dull side once he bowed down to fetch the cup.  
  
Pippin prevented him by snatching the cup from the ground and handing it to Sam. The face of the normally patient gardener was bright red and dark with anger.  
  
"It is all right, Master Legolas," Samwise said, "we have enough water yet for the Master Dwarf to get an extra helping or two if he can't wait until the next rest like all the others."  
  
Gimli glared at him. Thwarted for the moment in his attempt to humiliate and hurt the slave, he looked for another road to reach his goal.  
  
"You know," he said to Legolas, ignoring Sam and the other Hobbits for the moment, "you have some talent as a servant. Not much to be sure, but I suppose you could be trained. Now, after last night you are not solely bound to Aragorn any longer. When we have finished this Quest, maybe I'll go back to Rivendell and ask Lord Elrond to give you to me. He has always been a good friend of my people. Maybe he will be inclined to bestow you on me in payment for the slight your father did to mine!"  
  
He saw the Elf pale even more and smiled. Malice and dark satisfaction clouded his thoughts, and he wished to _hurt._  
  
"Or maybe," he mused, "if your master is unwilling to part with you, the Lord Elrond will give us some of your siblings. Perhaps that sister you talked about or some of these exciting nieces and nephews. I deem with proper training they could be put to good use in our mines."  
  
He had no warning. All he had seen was Legolas' eyes widening in alarm. The very next moment he found himself flat on his back, straddled by the Elf, an Elven blade at his throat.  
  
The Hobbits shrieked in alarm. Gimli froze, not daring to breathe. From somewhere in the back of the Fellowship he heard a thundering voice shout _" **Daro!** Legolas, stop! Stop it, Little Leaf!!!"_  
  
  
_________________ o _________________  
  
  
Aragorn was about ten paces away when he saw his Elf and the Dwarf tense in an angry exchange. He watched with dismay as the Elf served the Dwarf some water, obviously ordered, judging by Legolas' visible discomfort and the Dwarfs pompous demeanor. He started to get closer to defend Legolas at need, but was not fast enough; he had hardly caught up with Boromir, who had fallen behind the chatting cluster of Elf and Hobbits some time ago to watch them, when it happened.  
  
Aragorn shouted his command and started to run. He would never have been in time to stop Legolas from killing Gimli, but at least his order had the desired effect; sheer instinct and training of more than sixty years stayed Legolas' hand long enough for Aragorn to pass Boromir and get near them. Frantically, he began to talk pleadingly in Sindarin.  
  
"Legolas! Stop! Don't do it, Little Leaf! Please, whatever he said to you, do not do that! I promise we will deal with it, I promise I will _not_ punish you, but _don't take his life!_ "  
  
He suppressed his first instinct to jump the Elf and seize the knife from him, because he knew that he would never be in time. The only way to keep Legolas from killing his opponent now was to keep up the flow of words and try to talk him out of it. He knew the Elf must have been provoked beyond his limits to go that far, and he must have had very good reasons to give in to the lure.  
  
"Please, Legolas! Whatever it is he said to you, do not take his life. Think of your people! There would be dire consequences. I could not protect them!" he pleaded.  
  
The furious Elf didn't budge. Without removing the knife or even flinching, he uttered an angry stream of Sindarin. Boromir was close, hand at his sword, and Aragorn gave him a warning glare and shook his head no. He moved carefully closer, answering his slave in the same language.  
  
Legolas was deadly calm, albeit he was seething with anger. "Aragorn, he threatened to ask Lord Elrond to give him my sister. Or her children, as slaves for him and his people. Elrond would do it, too!" he said. "I cannot let him live to do that!"  
  
Aragorn paled. Inwardly he cursed himself. _This was what he had brought down on them, then, with his stupidity!_ Calmly and determinedly he said: _"I **swear** to you, he won't!_ I will kill him myself before I'll let that that happen! I _**swear!!**_ But _please_ , leave him to me! Do _not_ kill him yourself! _**Please** , melethron!_ Elrond would avenge his death on all your people! He would torture you to death, and let them pay, and I could not protect you. Please, Legolas, I beg of you, _**do not do this!"**_  
  
He was close. He knelt beside his Elf, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Please! Let go of him. Leave off!"  
  
Legolas hesitated, but did not yet remove the knife. "You swear, Estel?" he asked. "You swear you will stop him? You swear you will not let that happen?"  
  
There was no submission in his voice at this moment, just deadly calm.  
  
Aragorn swallowed.  
  
 _ **"I do!"**_ he said solemnly. "I swear on my name, my line, and on my life. I will not let him hurt your sister and your people. If necessary, I will kill him myself before he can. Now relent. Let go of him. Give me the knife!"  
  
Beside them, he could hear Frodo gasp, but he had hardly a mind to pay attention to the Hobbit.  
  
Another moment of hesitation, then the Elf relented. Disgusted, he lifted the knife and allowed Aragorn to pry his hand away and pull him up.  
  
The Dwarf scrambled to his feet and drew his axe. Aragorn shoved the Elf behind himself and drew his sword.  
  
"Leave off!" he snarled. "You have done quite enough already, Master Dwarf!"  
  
Gimli glared at him and held his axe higher. "Out of the way!" he growled. "Let me teach this Elf a lesson!"  
  
Behind Aragorn, Legolas spat: "Let me fight him, Estel!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. _**"Daro!"**_ he commanded sharply. "Be silent! Let me handle this!"  
  
He made no move to stand aside, but stood firmly between the two, facing the Dwarf. Behind Gimli's back, he could see Boromir slowly coming closer, circling a little to the side to give him room to interfere at need. From behind he could hear the fast tread of Gandalf, who was hurrying back from the head of the Fellowship.  
  
He paid them no heed. He fixed his whole concentration on the Dwarf before him.  
  
Gimli snarled: "Your _**slave**_ needs a lesson, Master Ranger! He attacks his betters without provocation!"  
  
Legolas uttered a stream of Sindarin, most of it expletives and curses. But it was Merry who yelled back at the Dwarf in outrage.  
  
 _"Without provocation?!_ You threatened his sister and his family! You said you'd ask Elrond to give them to you as your slaves, or slaves to your people! You call that  >i>'without provocation'?!" he cried.  
  
Boromir's eyes widened a moment, then he looked irritated and disgusted at the Dwarf. He stopped his circling and leaned on his drawn sword. Behind him and to his side Aragorn heard Mithrandir uttering a sharp question and receiving a brief retelling of the situation by the Hobbits, along with an angry stream of Sindarin by Legolas.  
  
Aragorn didn't listen to their words; he did not break his concentration on the Dwarf.  
  
"Merry is right, Master Dwarf," he said coldly, "I would not call that _'without provocation'!_ Under the circumstances the attack does not surprise me much. And Legolas has my permission to fight back and to defend himself; he received it early in the Quest. Besides, I don't recall I ever gave you leave to command him or harass him! He is bound to obey _**my**_ orders, but not your's!"  
  
The Dwarf glowered at him. "He is a slave, is he not?" he challenged, "And I was under the impression yesterday that you agreed to share!"  
  
Aragorn didn't even blink. "Then you misunderstood," he snarled. "I agreed to let you and Boromir help to feed the spell, but nothing more! You have no call to command, torment of harass him. Nor is he bound to obey you, or to be your servant or to do your chores! If you try to abuse our agreement in this way, you will answer to me!"  
  
The Dwarf snorted derisively. Boromir cocked a brow, but didn't comment. Aragorn paid him no heed.  
  
Yet the Dwarf did not chose to pursue this specific argument. Instead, he grasped his axe more tightly and growled with malice in his eyes:  
  
"He has your permission to fight back? _Then let him do so!_ Step aside so I can kill that insolent Elf myself!"  
  
After a moment he added with narrowed eyes: "Or does he _need_ to hide himself behind you in a battle?"  
  
Behind him, Aragorn heard Legolas give an angry retort in Sindarin and a renewed plea to let him fight, but merely shook his head and bellowed sharply: "Nay! _Daro!_ "  
  
Pippin piped up from his other side – the one where he and Merry had placed themselves with Sam and Bill the pony: "You did not seem so much to have the advantage just a few moments ago, Master Dwarf! Seemed to me the Ranger rescued you from Legolas, not Legolas from you!"  
  
Frodo hissed: _"Pippin!"_ Sam and Merry looked alarmed. But Aragorn smiled grimly.  
  
"Pippin is right, Master Dwarf," he said. "You would be dead right now had I allowed Legolas to kill you. And should I let him fight this battle, I do not doubt that you would lose. But I cannot do that."  
  
He narrowed his eyes, and his voice sharpened. "Legolas cannot be allowed to kill you, because the consequences would be dire not only for himself, but also for his people. Should he kill a member of the Fellowship, except to protect the Ring Bearer or me, and the tale made it back to Rivendell, Elrond would not only have him executed, but avenge his deed on the whole of Mirkwood, to the last innocent child. I cannot allow that."  
  
His eyes never left those of the Dwarf. "Does it please you, Master Dwarf, to threaten one who cannot fight back, because in doing so he would risk ruin not only for himself but all his people?"  
  
Gimli just snorted. Aragorn did not relent. He raised his sword higher.  
  
"However, if you are insisting on a fight, and would care for a foe who is not hampered like that, you are welcome to take your complaints up with me! I am a free warrior, and I do not have to answer to Elrond for killing you. And I will gladly do so, if you do not stop your harassment and abandon your threat!"  
  
Gimli adjusted his fighting stance. "Then it appears that you are a threat to this Fellowship, as well as that Elf!" he growled. "Boromir, to my side! You heard that Ranger's threats! It its time we protected the Fellowship from him!"  
  
Boromir raised his brows and shook his head. His face showed an odd mixture of annoyance and disgust.  
  
"I am afraid I cannot do that, Master Dwarf," he said. "You brought this on yourself. If I were in Legolas' position and you voiced such a threat against my family, I would be out for your blood, too. Besides, we do not have slavery in Gondor, and I do not wish to establish it there. If you wish to stand for your claim, you will have to do it alone."  
  
Glaring at him, then at the Hobbits and at Aragorn, still poised for a fight, Gimli finally gave a huff and straightened up. He rested the shaft of his axe on the ground before him. "Very well," he sneered heatedly, "Then it seems I have no business in this _'Fellowship'_ any longer, since no-one is on my side in my complaint against this Elf's attack!" He glowered at them and shrugged. "I will leave this Quest and go back to Rivendell. Maybe Lord Elrond will be more understanding to my case!"  
  
Legolas gave an angry shout. Aragorn bellowed a short command in Sindarin, silencing him.  
  
He took a step closer to Gimli.  
  
"I am afraid I can not allow that, Master Dwarf," he said with a cold voice. "For I gave Legolas my oath that I would rather kill you, than let you pursue your threat to his people, and I intend to keep it!"  
  
He dropped back into a fighting stance and said with deadly calm:  
"So either you will swear here and now on your honor, your family and your line, and on everything you hold dear, that you give up your threat and will never ask Elrond, or any other Elf of Rivendell or of Lothlorien, to give you or your people any of Legolas siblings, or indeed any Mirkwood Elf as slave, nor have your people do such; or you face me here in combat so I can kill you and stop you thus myself!"  
  
His face was deadly grim and stern, and there was no doubt that he meant it.  
  
Gimli dropped back into a fighting stance, raising his axe, and Aragorn raised his sword to meet him. The Hobbits looked with horror at the scene, shuddering at the impending bloodshed.  
  
Then Gandalf chose to interfere. He stepped close, effectively forcing Aragorn to take a step back so he would not harm the wizard if he swung at the Dwarf.  
  
"Gimli son of Gloin," the wizard said, "do you really wish to turn yourself and your people into Elrond's pawn in this matter? Do you really wish to let him use you and your people to hurt an old enemy of his whom he hates and despises for reasons that have nothing whatsoever to do with you and whatever slight you perceive done to your line?"  
  
He took another step closer.  
  
"Do you wish to turn yourself into an instrument in Elrond's war to harass and torment the Elves of Mirkwood and to spread the corruption of this evil even more?"  
  
He stopped, leaning on his staff. "For this is what would happen if you insisted on this plan of yours," he concluded.  
  
Gimli hesitated. He glared at Legolas.  
  
 _That Elf was the son of a hated foe, was he not? A foe that had imprisoned and insulted Gimli's father, and his comrades, Thorin's whole company, and never ever paid for that slight! And afterwards he had come after them with his whole army, just to claim their jewels! He deserved – his whole people deserved – what was coming to them, did they not? Besides, Elrond had ever been a friend to Gimli's line and the Dwarves of Erebor. There was nothing wrong in supporting him in his pursuits, was there?_  
  
And what was Tharkun doing anyway, siding with that Ranger and the Elf against him?!  
  
Hot tendrils of rage enclosed Gimli's mind, pushing him, urging him to attack --  
  
\-- then he frowned.  
  
Just yesterday he had been horrified at the extent of this spell, at the corruption it involved, at its cruelty against the slave; he had been ashamed at himself that he took part in the ignoble deed of raping another being, even a hated foe, all the while they did it. And now he suddenly thought of taking Elven slaves himself? Or forcing them on his people?  
  
What was happening to him?  
  
He shook his head as if to clear it and creased his brows, trying to fight against the dark rage that still fogged his thoughts.  
  
Gandalf took another step closer.  
  
"Do you recall what you were told about the Battle of the Five Armies, Gimli? Do you recall that Thranduil's Elves fought side by side with your people and the men of Dale and Laketown against the Orcs?" he asked.  
"The Orcs came down on the North in great force after the death of Smaug, and they were defeated only by all three races standing together against them. The Elves never hesitated to join the fray; in fact they were the first to attack the enemy. And they lost many of their warriors in that battle, too!"  
  
Gimli gritted his teeth. A voice in the back of his mind cried in rage, trying to drown out the wizard's voice.  
 _The Elves had only gotten what was coming to them if they lost warriors, too. After all, they came to Erebor as enemies, to steal the treasures, and they never paid for that or for the slight against Thorin and Gloin and their company. They deserved everything that was coming to them, as well as their fate of slavery... Didn't they?  
  
And Tharkun betrayed his friendship with the Dwarves of Erebor by siding with the Elves and against Gimli like this... did he not?_  
  
Somehow, the voice did not feel as if it was his own, anymore.  
  
Gandalf continued solemnly: "Do you recall what lies on Thorin's tomb in the depth of Erebor?"  
  
Gimli didn't answer. He just nodded tersely.  
  
Gandalf nodded, too. "Orcrist, the Elven blade Thorin found on his journey, twin of my blade Glamdring. It burns in blue light whenever enemies come close to the mountain," he answered his own question. "Do you recall that it was Thranduil who placed the sword on Thorin's tomb, honoring him for his bravery in the Battle against the Orcs? He was noble enough to honor his fallen foe and bury all discord with the victory they had achieved together. Will you be less noble now, by pursuing your plan to avenge a slight long in the past in such a manner?"  
  
Gimli hesitated again. Still, the voice in his head screamed in rage, trying to drown out the words of the wizard, but now it became ever weaker. Slowly, the hot tendrils of rage receded, and finally he managed to separate himself from them. He realized it then. Even with all the anger still burning within himself, these tendrils and that voice were something alien, something possessive. A malevolent influence.  
  
 _And nobody possessed a Dwarf!_  
  
Angrily, he shook himself free and then he deliberately lowered his axe again, placed its shaft back on the ground and glared at the Ranger.  
  
"Step aside, Ranger!" he growled. "There are words I have to say to that Elf, and they belong to him and not to you! I promise I will not attack him!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot do that," he said flatly. "Swear to me first as I demanded, or face me in battle! I will not stand aside without your oath!"  
  
Gimli glowered at him. But he was not about to let himself be pushed back into something he now knew as being alien by the Mans presumption. Grimly, he said:  
  
"Well, then. I swear the oath you demand. I swear it on my honor, on my line and on my secret name. I will not ask Lord Elrond for your Elf, or any of that Elf's siblings, nor any of his people. Nor will I tell this tale to him or anyone, or tell my people of Mirkwood's true state, or of this whole ignoble business of slavery and of that spell. I will take that secret to my grave. I will have no part of this business of keeping Elves as slaves, nor will my people if I can prevent it. Not out of fear of _**you**_ , but out of respect for Gandalf and because I do not wish myself and my people to become pawns in Elven politics. I owe them better than that!"  
  
He pursed his lips. Aragorn searched his eyes for any hint of deception and found nothing. "You swear?" he asked, still hesitant to step aside.  
  
Gimli nodded solemnly, if angrily. He was nearly of a mind to kill the Ranger just for spite and for his insolence, but he was determined not to let himself be goaded again. "I swear," he repeated. "Now step aside!"  
  
Aragorn looked at him another moment, then he took a deep breath and stepped aside. He knew Legolas could hold his own against any attack, if it came to that; and if the Dwarf broke his word he could still interfere.  
  
But the Dwarf surprised him, since he made no move to attack and just glared at the Elf for another moment. Then, Gimli bowed after the fashion of his people, deeply and without apparent derision.  
  
"My apologies to you, Master Elf," he said. "I reassure you that I will not pursue this idea, or tell your secret to any of my people. I do not know what came over me when I first made my threat. I think I have not been entirely myself."  
  
Legolas looked at him, astonished and searchingly. Then he nodded and bowed with equally solemnity.  
  
"Your apology is accepted, Master Dwarf," he said in his melodic voice. "You are not the only one the thing Frodo bears is trying to prey on."  
  
The Dwarf harrumphed noncommittally, then just nodded. Legolas returned the nod. Then, as if nothing had ever happened, Gimli hefted his axe over his shoulder again and began to march on. After a moment, Gandalf took a deep, relieved breath and followed, smiling to himself. Soon he had regained the head of the Fellowship again.  
  
The Hobbits, however, hesitated to follow. So did Legolas. He stood with apprehension, looking at his master.  
  
Aragorn just gave him a nod. "It is all right, Little Leaf. We'll talk about this later," he said. Then he added:  
  
"Well, I suggest we all start to move again. We still have to cover several leagues before dark."  
  
Legolas swallowed, then bowed. "Yes, my Lord. Thank you," he said. Then, following his master's command, he turned and trudged on. The Hobbits glared at the Ranger for another moment, then they turned too, placing themselves protectively around the Elf.  
  
Aragorn looked after them. Then he turned around to Boromir.  
  
The Man of Gondor looked at him with a puzzled, but somewhat amused expression.  
  
"So your little pleasure-toy has a sting," he said, "and you are not hesitant to defend him." He shrugged. Not giving the Ranger time for a reply, he added:  
  
"Very well. But I still expect you to keep our bargain!"  
  
And with that he trudged on.  
  
Aragorn looked after him, boiling with anger. Then he looked down, the anger turning into bleak despair. Wordlessly, he resumed his place at the rear of the Fellowship and started to move.  
  
  
 _So this was what he had brought down upon them._  
  
  
________________ o ______________  
  
  
  
\-- End of Part V --  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
 _Tharkun—Kuzdhul (Probably):_ Dwarven name for Gandalf.


	28. Past and Present I: Enslaved

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions.  
  
**Special warnings for this chapter** : _torture, **rape, gang-rape; and mutilation** (of Original Characters)! All in flashbacks only, but still: this chapter is **very grim**. I mean it!_  
  
This chapter deals with the first few weeks directly after Legolas was first enslaved, and describes how he was broken into the mindset of a slave. There is nothing pretty about it. It is grim. If you do _not_ want to read this, I advice you to _skip this chapter_ (or at least the flashback scenes, marked by italics), and read on with chapter XVII, "Past And Present II: Glorfindel". There it should be relatively save to read again. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
____________________________________  
  
  
\-- Part VI: Eregion (Past And Present) --  
  


**XXVI. Past and Present I: Enslaved**  
  
  
It took quite some timing and much patience, but finally Aragorn found the opportunity to speak with Boromir again out of earshot of his elf.   
  
He waited until one of the Hobbits mentioned the setting sun and raised the question when they would make camp, and promptly Legolas offered to scout ahead again to find them a good place to stay for the night. When the Elf was gone, Aragorn confronted the Gondorian about his demand. In the end, Boromir at least agreed to give Legolas another day to recover from the ritual before he had to share himself again.  
  
Uncomfortable, but at least a little reassured, Aragorn waited for his Elf's return. The sun was close to setting when he did. Legolas had found them a inviting little grove near another brook, and moreover a little downstream the brook had filled a nice little pool with shallow water that was still deep enough to bathe. Thick copse covered the surroundings of the pool and the grove, promising privacy for anyone who would care to take a bath. In addition, there were at least a few trees in the grove big enough for an Elf to sleep in, and Aragorn suspected that this, more than anything else, had determined the Elf's choice. In any case, the place was perfect and the Hobbits started to make camp immediately.   
  
Legolas received much praise for his find both from them and from Gandalf, and an approving nod from his master. Still, the Elf was tense and silent, and it was with much apprehension that he finally found himself approached by Aragorn.  
  
"Legolas," his master said, "come with me. I think we both can use a bath, and I still have to wash my blanket."  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. He had known he would probably have to pay for his attack on the Dwarf this afternoon sooner or later. Still, he feared what Aragorn would do to him. Silently and without another word, he bowed to his master, took his soap and followed Aragorn to the pool.  
  
When they were there, Legolas undressed and neatly set his clothes to the side. He was a bit astonished when Aragorn ordered him to help him undress as well, and then commanded his help in washing the soiled blanket. Afterwards, Aragorn asked him to get into the pool with him, took the soap and covered first his slave, then himself in foam. During the entire time, he said not one harsh word. In fact he scarcely said anything at all.  
  
Legolas was puzzled. Finally he could not stand the tension any longer.  
  
"My Lord," he carefully began, "about today..."  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes. He sighed.  
  
"Shh," he said, "it is all right. I told you already that I would not punish you. In fact, if I recall correctly, I promised."  
  
He opened his eyes again and met Legolas' gaze. His slave stared at him astonished and in wonder.   
  
"You are not angry?" Legolas asked hesitantly.  
  
Aragorn returned his gaze. He raised his brow.  
  
"I am," he said, "but mostly at myself. I should have seen this coming, and taken precautions. Besides, you only defended your people. And I gave you permission to retaliate if the Dwarf attacked you. How could I reprimand you for doing what I gave you leave to do myself?"   
  
He sighed again, then shook his head. "No, Little Leaf, I will not punish you for this. Nor will I revoke my permission to defend yourself. Just remember that you cannot afford to kill any member of the Fellowship, for whatever reason save protecting the Ring-Bearer, or me. If it should come to that, leave it to me. The cost of your doing that would be too high, and we could never keep it secret. I could not protect you."  
  
Legolas looked at him, wide eyed and disbelieving. Nearly soundlessly, he mouthed: "Estel..."  
  
Aragorn cocked his head at him. "I told you I would not allow the Dwarf to hurt you," he simply said.  
  
"You... you did," Legolas agreed, still somewhat incredulous. Then suddenly he dropped to his knees, uncaring that his body was now submerged waist-deep in the water.   
  
"Thank you!" he said, overwhelmed, _"Thank you, Estel!"_  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath and dropped to his knees himself. Carefully, he enfolded the trembling Elf within his arms. Carefully and tenderly, he began to pet him, then he scooped up water with a hand and began to wash the lithe body. Finally he proceeded to the head and took care to wet the golden tresses, then to loosen the braids.   
  
Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, savouring the gentle ministrations of his master. He had no idea what had brought Estel's sudden tenderness about, but he was willing to relish every single moment of it as long as it would last.   
  
When Estel started on his warrior braids, he made a half-hearted attempt to unbraid them himself, but found his hands gently, but firmly pushed away. " _Shh_ , Little Leaf," his master said, "let me do this! You may assist me with washing my own hair, later."  
  
Obediently, Legolas dropped his hands and let himself be tended as passively as his master wanted.   
  
Aragorn applied the soap tenderly and thoroughly, taking care to soak the hair and massage the soap into it. He stole a kiss or two between his ministrations and licked and nibbled a bit at one wet ear, but he did not go further into foreplay. This was for Legolas' comfort, not for his own satiation; and he suspected that after last night the Elf would prefer simple tenderness and cuddling to carnal pleasures. Briefly he felt the urge to make Legolas squirm in unwanted pleasure, force him to his peak and drink his essence, then make him beg for more; but he shoved it away. This was not what the moment called for. So he kept the teasing down and attended to his slave as reverently as if their roles had been reversed.   
  
When he finally rinsed the soap away, he said:   
"You know, I spoke with Boromir today. He agreed to give you some more time to recover. So, tonight you may rest. Tomorrow we will start to honor the bargain."  
  
Legolas stiffened and his eyes flew open. He had nearly drifted off into reverie, when Aragorn's words ripped him out of his comfortable drowsiness. Startled, he looked at his master in disbelief, tensing up as he saw Aragorn's expression. His master's face was unrelenting, although it held no anger.  
  
Legolas looked at him another moment, then he bowed his head at him, but not before Aragorn had seen the hope die in his eyes. His master held him gently and kissed his brow.  
  
"Hush!" he said, "Don't fear! Our dear Master Dwarf is out of the game after today. You will not have to worry about him."  
  
Legolas looked up. Carefully he asked: "...Boromir?"   
  
Aragorn placed another kiss on his brow and sighed. He stroked the back of his miserable Elf and shook his head.  
  
"Boromir insisted," he said, "and I agreed. Don't fear, _melethron_! I will not allow him to hurt you."  
  
He stroked over the golden head and sighed. "I know you cannot see it right now, but it is for your own good. You will be safer this way. _I will not have you die because of me!_ " The last words were spoken fiercely, and there was an odd note in his voice, partly determination, partly defiance.   
  
Legolas dared to meet his gaze again. He saw Aragorn's eyes awash with a haunted expression. For a moment he was tempted to ask what dark vision had been tormenting his master. He knew Aragorn had the gift – or curse – of foresight, albeit diluted by his human blood and not as strong as it ran in Elrond or Galadriel. But right now, he did not find it in himself to care. Aragorn would insist on sending him to the other Adan's bedding. He could not bring himself to think beyond that.  
  
Carefully he dared to say: _"Estel..."_ He stopped himself, swallowed and lowered his eyes again. After another moment, he continued: "I'm sorry. It is just... I do not like to share myself with others beside you, My Lord."  
  
Aragorn saw his bleak expression with dismay. It hurt a little that Legolas was back to avoiding his gaze and calling him 'My Lord' again. Of course, given the circumstances, it was only to be expected. "I know," he whispered. "I am sorry, _melethron_. I hate to share you, too. Yet it is for your good. It is necessary to keep you safe."   
  
Legolas looked down. He did not answer.   
  
Aragorn sighed. He seized the chin of his slave, tipped it up and kissed him deeply.  
  
"Hush!" he repeated then, "It won't be happening tonight. Tonight you will have for yourself. And I will see to it that you won't have to take one of the watches!"   
  
Legolas merely bowed his head obediently and murmured "Thank you, My Lord." Aragorn looked at him with grief, then he gave up trying to assuage him and placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder. "Very well. Help me to wash myself. Then you may return to the camp," he said.   
  
Legolas obeyed. Mutely, he tended to his master as he had been commanded, but his attentions, while reverent enough, held none of his usual devotion. He was simply going through the motions. His earlier enjoyment of his master's closeness had been replaced by a numb feeling of emptiness. When he was done, he waited with bowed head for another command, until his master gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the shore and ordered him to get out of the water and dress. He obeyed and dutifully helped Aragorn to put his clothes back on, too. Then he waited for another order.  
  
Aragorn studied him a moment, then he shook his head and sighed. "Go back to the camp," he said gently. "Don't take the first or second watch. That is an order! I want you to take some rest tonight!" He reached for the damp blanket. "I will follow later," he added.  
  
His slave gave him an obedient bow, then he turned and walked back to the camp without another word.   
  
Aragorn watched him go. He bowed his head.  
  
_So it would take him time to regain Legolas' trust again.  
  
Very well. After all, it was nothing more than he had expected._  
  
  
__________ o ___________  
  
  
Legolas made it back to the camp in bleak despair. He feared the next day, and he feared the night. He wished he had at least not been commanded to rest. He would much rather forsake sleep altogether, than have to face the dreams and memories he could feel lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for the moment when he slipped into reverie. Still, he could not take a watch. His master had given him specific orders for tonight.  
  
Legolas refused to think about tomorrow.   
  
But how was he supposed to _find_ rest? Aragorn had not told him _that_. Legolas doubted he could. If only he could take one of the watches... Then he hesitated, struck by a sudden thought. Aragorn had not exactly _forbidden_ him to take one of the watches, had he not? He had just insisted it should not be an _early_ one. His master merely wished to prevent him from staying up all night again, deliberately failing to wake the others who should relieve him for their turns.   
  
It was better than nothing.  
  
So Legolas asked for and was permitted to take the third watch of the night, relieved that he would at least have some distraction later. Then he settled himself in his bedding, feeling numb and miserable. He just hoped that he would not be haunted by any memories this night.   
  
Of course he knew there was hardly any chance of that.  
  
  
___________ o __________  
  
  
Legolas dreamed.  
  
// / _He is kneeling. His hands are bound behind his back. It is cold. The obscene, thin, loose garment they have clad him in is barely keeping warmth. It is a thin, slack gown, held together by laces at the sides and on his shoulders; easily discarded even without needing to loosen his bonds, should any of his captors wish to use his body. Still, it is better than being naked. Or so he supposes.  
  
He shivers. The cold steel collar closed around his neck chafes against his skin. A heavy metal chain of well-wrought steel attaches it to the main pole of the small tent. It's a few paces long; his captors do not want to be uncomfortable or to hamper themselves when they wish to use him.  
  
Despite the chain, they have posted guards outside the tent. He can hear their idle chatter from the entrance. He wonders at their presence; they are hardly necessary, for escape is impossible. Even if he weren't bound, he is under the curse, and beyond that, he would not try to flee or kill himself. For if he tried to flee, or to die, other hostages would have to pay the price for that. Elrond has said so. But the guards have been assigned to his tent, anyway. He supposes Elrond simply does not want to take a risk.  
  
Legolas trembles, body wracked by tremors that have nothing to do with the cold. He closes his eyes. He is shivering in bleak despair. Self-loathing and fear tear at his soul. All he wishes for is to die, but death will not come, however intensely he prays for this release. It is said that an Elf will die of rape, but he has not been granted that escape. Even the Valar reject him! Biting his lips, balling his fists in defiance, he refuses the tears trying to escape his eyes. He does not know when his captors will return to force themselves on him. Whenever it is, he will not give them the satisfaction of letting them see his pain!  
  
With growing numbness, he recalls last night. It has been just three days since he was enslaved, just three days ago that Elrond raped him in front of his own father's eyes and the assembled company of Mirkwood, and more, the whole host of Rivendell and Lothlorien. He had been nearly unconscious when they dragged him finally away. At that time he just wanted to die, and had thought himself at the end of his endurance. He nursed his injuries and cried since for all his wishes and prayers, death would not come. He thought that he was at the very bottom then, that it could not get worse.   
  
What a fool he had been!   
  
Even now he can feel the brutal hands of the guards who dragged him out of this little tent last night and brought him before Elrond; and he hears the malevolent voice of the Lord of Rivendell again....  
  
The scene changes. He is in the grip of hard, brutal hands, struggling, kicking, cursing, being dragged to a big, imposing tent...  
  
  
**************  
  
  
....Hard, unrelenting hands dragged him to the large tent of the Lord of Rivendell. He struggled, but to no avail. The four guards holding him were just too strong, not to mention that his hands were tightly bound. Finally, they had him in the tent. He was thrown down and scrambled to his knees. The ground was soft, covered in precious furs. Carefully he raised his eyes, casting his gaze around. He barely noticed the layout, although it registered in the back of his mind.  
He noticed, though, that everything was sumptuous; intricately carved furniture was covered with richly embroidered draperies, and thick tapestries adorned the four walls of the tent. But all his conscious mind registered right then were his captors. There were five people in the tent beside the guards who held him, standing in a half-circle around him. Directly before him he could see a pair of boots, beneath a richly embroidered, heavy gown. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet the malicious and hateful gaze of the Lord of Rivendell.   
  
**Elrond!** He stared at him, hatred and defiance burning in his heart. He knew it showed in his eyes, because the enemy Lord held his gaze with glittering eyes and smiled.  
  
"Welcome, Mirkwood spawn!" Elrond greeted him. "I see you haven't learned your proper place just yet, nor do you know how to behave! Don't worry, that will change. Soon you will get accustomed to your new duties. You will be the plaything of my sons, and for that you will need to be properly trained! You will serve their pleasure and fulfill their every wish, until they tire of you. For now, however, it is time for your first lesson. Tonight I will extend the spell to them and bind you thus to the ones who will own you!"   
  
Legolas felt himself growing pale, in spite of the hatred burning inside his soul. Elrond saw it and his smile deepened. "Of course," he continued, " **exclusive** ownership will only become effective after you have learned a few lessons about your new place. Until then, you will serve **every one** who wants to take you and to whom I give permission to enjoy you, until I give you to your new masters."  
  
Legolas was trembling now, fear clouding his mind, drowning out the hate. Surely that Noldor-Spawn didn't mean--?  
  
Elrond's cruel smile turned into a grin. He stepped to a little table at the side and lifted something from its surface.   
  
Stepping closer and actually kneeling down beside his captive, he raised the crude thing in front of Legolas' eyes, close enough to see. It was a blunt, polished wooden staff, formed like an erect male member. And as if that alone were not hideous enough, there were small shards embedded in the otherwise smooth surface. Elrond looked at him maliciously, asking: "Do you know what this is?"  
  
Legolas refused to answer. He was beaten from behind. Defiantly he finally gave a little shake of his head. Elrond smiled again. "It is a **taer cant aniron** (1), specially prepared for this little ritual of ours. You have already tasted it once before. Today, it will go inside you again and prepare you for us. You are to be taken by three masters, so I am afraid it will need to enter you a bit more... **thoroughly** , tonight."  
  
Legolas was openly trembling now. He hated the betrayal of his body, but he could not help himself. He began desperately to struggle again, and was brutally held in place by the guards. Elrond rose abruptly and commanded coldly: "Undress him!"  
  
The remains of the tattered clothes he had worn the day before were ripped off him, and finally, he was kneeling there completely naked, shivering in fear and shame. His hair was brutally yanked back, forcing his head into his neck. The mouthpiece of a skin was pressed against his lips. "Drink!" Elrond's voice commanded. "Three sips!"  
  
Legolas defiantly pressed his lips together. A whip lashed down on his bare back, and he flinched, but refused to gasp. Elrond cocked his head. "If you don't drink on your own, we will **force** it down you. And I should warn you now, this drug is very potent. It causes need. The more you drink of it, the more badly you will need to be taken. If you do not drink it on your own, you might actually be forced to swallow... a lot."  
  
Legolas was trembling now, but he still defiantly pressed his lips together. Dispassionately, Elrond commanded: "Narthalion!"  
  
The Elf who held Legolas' hair within his grip closed a gloved hand over the captive's nose. Bereft of air, Legolas had to gasp. The moment he opened his mouth, the mouthpiece was forced between his lips and burning liquid ran into his throat. Soon, he found himself forced to swallow so he would not choke.  
  
The mouthpiece was removed. So was the hand closing up his nose. Gasping and coughing, Legolas fought for air, trying to regain his breath. Finally, he managed to compose himself, and raised his eyes back to those of his tormentor.   
  
Elrond smirked at him. "There," he said, "that was not so hard, was it?" Then his expression hardened again and he forced the mouthpiece back between his victim's lips. "Now drink again! Two more sips!" he commanded harshly.  
  
Suddenly, from the back of the tent, another voice spoke up. "Make that **three** more."  
  
Elrond turned, gazing questioningly at the speaker. "Are you sure, Glorfindel? You want to have a piece of him yourself, then?" he asked. "I could give you a slave of your own, you know." In turning, he removed the mouthpiece, and Legolas risked a look at this other Elf, and those who stood beside him.  
  
He saw a golden headed Elf-Lord of proud bearing and noble face, who seemed to glow from the inside and give off light all of his own. Presently his face held an odd mixture of disgust and pity. The golden headed Elf shook his head.  
  
"No, my liege. I do not wish for a slave of my own. I just think that it would be best if there was another one who could give this slave what he needs to stay alive. You know how often your sons are abroad hunting Orcs. And you, My Lord, are often held captured by your duties." He sighed. "I would be glad if I could provide you and your sons with another option to ensure this slave's survival."  
  
  
Elrond looked at him for another moment quizzically, then his look turned to two other Elves standing beside the one who had spoken. Legolas followed his gaze. He saw two eerily identical faces, which bore a close resemblance to the lord of Rivendell. That must be the infamous twins then, Elrond's sons, to whom he was going to be thrown like a bone given to the dogs.   
  
The twins shared a look and shrugged. "All right," said the one standing to the left, "if Glorfindel wants to have a share of him, he may. It is rare enough that he shows any weakness, and if he has a liking for this slave, I suppose we can grant him a share."   
  
The other twin just nodded his agreement. "We owe Glorfy enough," he confirmed. "It is a small enough favor to occasionally share our slave with him."   
  
The golden headed Elf visibly flinched at the disrespectful shortening of his name and the twins smirked. Elrond raised a brow and turned back to his victim.   
  
He pressed the mouthpiece back between Legolas lips. "Very well," he callously said, "three more sips then!"  
  
It required the help of Narthalion again, but finally a sufficient amount of the drug was forced down Legolas' throat.   
  
The liquid burned within him, caused him to feel strange. Alarmed, he registered that Elrond was suddenly behind him, holding the hideous pleasure staff. He started to struggle wildly then, but to no avail. Elrond just pressed his hand against his neck with a strange word, and suddenly, he could not move, and there was this freezing blue light again, invading his mind. Then he felt himself breached by something hard and hurting, and he gasped. He was determined not to scream, but as the thing impaled him completely, then was pulled out and then thrust in again, and again, and again, all the while slicing him open, his resolve was swept away, and he screamed.   
  
He also screamed as some kind of paste, thick and burning, was worked inside him, and then as he felt himself filled by the hot column of flesh of the hated Elf-Lord, and was brutally raped by him. He hated himself as the other Elf came within his body, and he felt himself filled by hot, loathsome fluids. Then the malicious Elf-Lord pulled out and slipped away; but Legolas had not even time to heave a sigh of relief before he was impaled again. Another Elf was behind him, filled him, raped him, then another, and another... He tried to struggle, but to no avail. He could not move. He could not fight. But the most horrifying thing was that, to his undying shame, he suddenly felt his own body stir, react to the hated inflictions and the brutal treatment, and he felt his member rise, growing erect... felt himself craving the punishing thrusts that were ripping him apart...  
  
He tried to die, then, tried to leave his body, but always when he just thought he could float away and leave it behind, the freezing light would capture him and haul him back. He could not escape. His mind shut down then. It was all too much. He could not say how long it lasted, when they were done, when the horribly ritual finally ended. He was barely conscious when they finally left him alone.  
  
  
One thing he remembered clearly, though. Before they dragged him back to the little tent where they held him captive, Elrond spoke to him, the malicious voice dripping derision and hatred.   
  
"Remember," Elrond said, "whatever you do **will** affect your fellow hostages. If you try to flee, you will be punished, but they will share your punishment in full. If you try to kill yourself, and fail, you will be tortured. So will they. If you attempt suicide and succeed, not only you will die, but ten other hostages as well. And they will be replaced immediately with other Mirkwood Elves, among them your last free siblings. You cannot escape, so do not even try it!"   
  
Then the master of Rivendell smirked grimly, and hateful satisfaction was glowing in his eyes.  
  
"But first, you have to learn the workings of the spell. You are bound to four masters: To me, my sons, and to Lord Glorfindel. Only **we** can keep you alive with our attentions, and you will **crave** to be taken by us above all others. I have wound the bond pretty tightly, since I know my sons like to play a bit, and they might wish to keep you in need now and again before they take you. So you'll need to be taken every month. If you are not, you will suffer, and finally die. But we won't **let** you die unless we tire of you. Still, to show you what the spell can do, I condemn you to be deprived of our attentions for two months. In that time, we may enjoy your body, but we will **not** give you what you need. Only when you are close to the brink of death, and beg for it, will you be taken by your masters. But do not worry! Until then, I will lend you to every Elf of our host who wants to taste you and whom I see fit to enjoy himself with you, and you will serve them faithfully."  
  
  
*************  
  
  
Suddenly the scene changes again. Legolas finds himself back in the little tent, wrists bound behind his back and further restrained by the chain and collar.  
  
Legolas shudders. Slowly, his mind returns from the horror of the night before. Then he starts and looks around. From the outside, he can hear two more voices, laughing and boasting. "Step aside," one of the new voices says, "we got permission from Lord Elrond to taste this slave. He seems to be a snotty little thing, this princeling! 'Tis time somebody showed him his true place! I bet, once he is tamed he will be quite sweet to savour..."  
  
A roaring fills his ears and he tries hard to fight down his mounting fear. **So it begins!** He hardly hears the answer of the guard, then the flap of the tent is opened. Two dark haired Noldor enter the little tent. Legolas' trembling increases, but at the same time, he stares at them defiantly and with determination. So these two want to taste him? He will prove to them that he is not a sweet, helpless plaything at their whim! If they touch him, they will pay for it!  
  
He refuses to let them see his apprehension. He stares at them contemptuously. It takes all his strength to remain kneeling, instead of jumping up to fight, but he is bound both at his wrists and with the chain. It would be no use. So, he simply glares at them. The enemy warriors laugh at him. "Look," one of them says, "he still has some spirit!"  
  
The other one sneers: "Time he learned his place!" He steps close and hits Legolas twice in the face, hard. "Look down, slave! You are only to raise your eyes when it is demanded! Lord Elrond gave you to us for this night, and we plan to enjoy it! You will serve us like the good little slave you are, will you not?!"  
  
Legolas grits his teeth. He refuses an answer and simply bows his head, as if defeated. One of the Noldor steps behind him and grabs the chain, yanking it back. Legolas has no choice but to move with the pull or be choked. The Elf behind him grabs his hair and yanks his head back into his neck. The Noldor sees Legolas' angry glare and suppressed anger, and smiles.  
  
"Insolent slave! Still defiant, are you? It will be a pleasure to see you broken! Now, open up for us," he purrs cruelly. "Show me and my friend here what a talented little mouth you have!"  
  
With horror, Legolas realizes what they mean to do. The Noldor standing before him has freed his member now. It is fully erect and eager. Legolas manages to give him a withering glare. He presses his lips together, tightly. Another blow hits him, this time from behind.   
  
"Open up, slave!" the Noldor behind him snarls, "Or you will feel the whip!"  
  
Legolas grits his teeth and stares at the erect member shoved into his face. The thought of taking that thing into his mouth is nearly enough to make him gag. But there is no help for it now. The Noldor behind him holds him immobile with both the chain around his neck and the harsh grip in his hair, and he cannot move. So, after a short moment of defiance, he obediently opens his mouth.  
  
The male before him grins. The one behind him lets go of his hair to give him some room to move. "Look at this!" he jeers. "Not so proud now, anymore, our little princeling! Eager, is he not?"  
  
Legolas ignores him. Invitingly and seemingly resigned to his fate he opens his mouth and suffers the Elf before him to shove his member in. He feels the need to gag, but suppresses it with all his might. Instead, he obediently closes his lips around the invading body part, even forcing himself to swirl his tongue around the hostile flesh.  
  
The Noldor groans, surprised at the slave's sudden compliance, then he grins. "For a beginner, you are quite talented," he sneers, a little breathlessly. "Always dreamed of doing that, did you? Now, slave, pleasure me! And make it good!"  
  
Legolas ignores the jeering words, ignores the cruel, derisive laughter of the other Noldor, the one behind him. He even refuses the brief urge to smile. Instead, he swirls his tongue experimentally around the engorged member raping him another time - and then bites down. Hard.  
  
Blood fills his mouth. The Noldor howls. A hard blow connects with the side of his jaw, blinding pain exploding in his head, and the chain around his neck is pulled back hard, threatening to crush his windpipe. In sudden panic he is forced to gasp for air, and thus let go. The injured rapist withdraws and stumbles back. Legolas spits the blood out of his mouth. There is a revolting piece of flesh with it, but not enough. Hard blows are raining down on him, kicks hit his sides, and the chain still threatens to choke him. He tries to struggle, but to no avail. Then the guards are there, subduing him, and the blows and kicks come from all sides now. Somebody yells for the healers. The injured Noldor huddles on the other side of the tent, screaming and howling like a wounded animal, and for a moment, Legolas rejoices in dark satisfaction. A kick hits his groin, and white pain explodes in his head. He curls around himself. The chain is yanked harshly back again and he chokes, fighting for air. More kicks attack his sides. He realizes that they are going to beat him to death.   
  
It doesn't matter. He made them pay for what they did to him, he managed to pay them back! He is ready to die now! Then something connects with the back of his head, pain explodes within his brain, and everything goes black._ / //  
  
  
\-- Legolas whimpered. He knew that he was dreaming, that he was reliving memories; he knew that he should wake, but as it was sometimes with nightmares, he could not. He feared what was to come, he feared to continue the memory, feared it like a very young Elfling feared to go round a dark, looming corner. But try as he might, he could not wake. He was trapped in the dream. The events of the past unraveled in his mind as they had done before. He fought for control, fought to leave the memory, but it was no use. The dream went on. He could not escape.   
  
  
_// /...The scene changes again.  
  
He is still kneeling, but this time, he is naked. He is tied fast to a frame of poles, keeping him immobile, arms and legs spread apart. His whole body hurts from the severe whipping he has just received. He'd thought they would beat him to death, but they stopped just short of rendering him unconscious. Of course, they told him, this was only the start. He knows more is to come: he is tied just in front of another rack holding the instruments of torture, and a big fireplace a little to the side promises worse to come.  
  
Somebody enters the tent, and he raises his head to face his new tormentor. It is Elrond and his torture-master, the cruel, callous, muscled Elf who delivered the whipping. With them is one of the other hostages. It is an elleth(2), wide-eyed, frightened beyond belief. She is tightly bound, but she tries to fight every inch of the way, digging in her heels, squirming. It is useless; the torturer holds her in an iron grip and drags her with him mercilessly. When she sees the rack she wails in fear.   
  
Legolas is confused. He knows something terrible is about to happen, but he doesn't know what. It was **him** who did the deed they are about to punish. What do they want with the girl?  
  
He does not know her. She is from one of the outer settlements. All he knows is that she was chosen by her community to become a hostage because she lost her beloved in battle recently, and her parents and siblings in an Orc-raid long ago. It is cruel to condemn those already struck by fate to become hostages, but it is necessary to protect the others. At least, she will not leave any loved ones behind.  
  
Still, she is one of his people and he is bound to protect her, if he can.  
  
But he cannot. She screams when she sees the instruments of torture, screams again when she sees Legolas' bound, bloody, naked form. The torturer slaps her cruelly, commands her to be quiet, and she subsides to avoid further punishment. He ignores Legolas' desperate shout to let her go. He drags her to the tent-pole and binds her to it, legs, waist and throat, until she cannot move. The girl is quiet now, but she looks around as frightened as a panicked horse.  
  
The torturer steps to the side, waiting. Elrond turns to Legolas. He smiles evilly.  
  
"I am disappointed with you, Mirkwood Spawn! Obviously, you have yet to learn your place! You committed a terrible offense, attacking one of your betters when it was your duty to pleasure him! I told you that for every misdeed not only you but also your fellow hostages would have to pay, did I not?"  
  
The girl looks at Elrond, wide eyed, startled. Her mouth forms a terrified 'o', and she shakes her head as if in denial. Legolas looks at her pale, aghast face, then he looks back at Elrond. He defiantly presses his lips together. Elrond sees it and shrugs.  
  
"Well, they already have. The whipping you received was shared by all of your fellow hostages," he says casually. "However, since you attacked one of your betters, one of my free warriors, that punishment is much too mild; it can serve only for a start." He narrows his eyes. "The one whom you attacked suffered severe injury. You did not manage to castrate him, or this would be a death sentence for you and all who were enslaved with you. But you did considerable harm."   
  
The girl is white as snow now. Her breath comes fast. Legolas stares at Elrond. He knows, his face shows no regret, because he feels none. He is just sorry that he did not succeed in mutilating the bastard. He deserved it!  
  
Elrond smiles. "Normally, an offense like this committed by a slave would warrant the slave's castration and further, the cutting out his tongue, rendering him mute for the rest of his days. However, since you are to be the property of my sons and they don't want you so marred, another hostage will have to pay for your offense. Another one will suffer the mutilation you deserve."  
  
Legolas' head snaps up and he stares at Elrond, wide-eyed and in fear. He shakes his head, tries to protest. **"No!"** he begins to say, "No..."  
  
Elrond sees his reaction and grins. "Unfortunately, most of the other hostages have already been given to their new masters. Their new masters do not wish them marred in a way that would render them useless. So we decided not to take your punishment out on one of the other males. Instead, we choose this female. Of course, we will have to bend the sentence since she can't lose body parts that she does not have. So instead of a castration, we will take out her eyes. Her new master is one who likes his slaves... dependent and ...quiet. He will not protest to have her thus."  
  
The elleth screams. Legolas screams, too. He fights his bonds in despair, but they do not yield. He shakes his head in denial, uttering pleas. Pride and defiance forgotten, he pleads and begs in shame. " **No!** Not her! Not her! **Me! Please!** Don't harm her! Take me! Do it to me! It was **my** fault, let **me** pay for it! Blind me, torture me, but  >b>do not harm her!"  
  
Elrond smirks at him. "Oh, you **will** continue to pay, make no mistake! You will be tortured; you will have much time to think of what you did. But you will not be marred. For every offense you commit, others will have to pay. You know that, do you not?"  
  
The torturer steps to the rack and takes a knife. He steps back to the girl, and grabs her chin, forcing her to open her mouth. She wails constantly now. Legolas continues to fight his bonds, continues to scream and plead, but he might as well be mute, since it is to no avail. The girl gurgles and wails as her tormentor takes out her tongue. Her cries are less articulate now, but pitiful. Blood pools around her mouth. She looks at Legolas, pleadingly, eyes wide in fear and pain. He looks back, in tears, feeling damned beyond damnation.   
  
The torturer steps back to the rack and takes a long, cruel instrument, much like a stiletto. He steps back to the girl. Legolas shakes his head from side to side. His face is awash in tears. He tries to close his eyes, but he cannot. He does not deserve to look away. Something within himself forces him to look, to face what he has done.   
  
Awash in pain he witnesses her last look at him, accusing, despairing, full of fear. He hears her scream as the tormentor plucks out her eyes, and it rends his heart. He knows now that he does not deserve to be called her prince. He **never** deserved to be called a prince of his people. When she is dragged away, finally, mercifully unconscious, he bows his head and cries. He has not enough curses in his heart to cast on himself, no term derisive enough to ever describe him. And he knows now that he does not deserve to die. Death would be far too merciful a punishment for this./ // _  
  
  
__________________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas woke, bathed in sweat, heart hammering in his chest. Helpless sobs died in his throat while he tried to get his bearings.  
  
The night was quiet. The sky above him was full of stars. He wildly looked around, for a moment without orientation. He could see his master, not three steps away, sleeping, huddled in his coat for warmth. Everything was quiet; they were in the wilds, not in an Elven war camp. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Memory readjusted itself. _Oh, yes, the Quest._ All around him, he could hear the soft breathing noises of the sleeping fellowship. A little to the side he heard the inescapable snoring of the Dwarf. He opened his eyes again, carefully checking if he had woken anyone with his nightmare. Apparently not, for the only one awake besides himself was Pippin, who had the second watch.  
  
Silently, he drew his knees to his body, closed his arms around them and curled around himself. Slowly rocking back and forth, he tried to slow his breathing and calm down. He did not stop the tears falling from his eyes, although he swallowed his sobs. He did not wish to wake the others with his nightmares again.  
  
Eyes unseeing, he forced himself to face the memories. They held him mercilessly in their grip, would not relent.  
  
Of course, it had not ended there. Elrond had made good his threat; they had tortured Legolas for days and within an inch of his life, tortured him until he knew nothing but pain and thought he would never know anything else again. He suffered through it without complaint, without begging for mercy. In fact, he welcomed the pain. He felt it was just what he deserved, and the least he could do to pay for what he had brought down by his actions upon that poor girl whom he was supposed to protect.  
  
He had still hoped that he would die, that they would finally kill him, or mutilate him too; but they never did. In fact, they took care not to do him lasting harm, mindful of the wishes of his future masters. And after a few days the torture stopped and they let him recover.   
  
_Of course, this had but been the start of the real nightmare._  
  
As soon as he had been recovered enough, they had started to use him as they wished, use him as Elrond had threatened. He shuddered when he thought back to it, and he was glad that at least his memories of _that_ time were less than clear. An endless stream of warriors, both of Rivendell and Lothlorien, got leave to use his body as they pleased, as long as they did not do him lasting harm. Some days it had been three or four who came to the little tent to use him. At first they'd put a ring into his mouth when they wished to force themselves on him that way to hinder him from biting. Later, when the first stages of need kicked in and they were sure that he was broken, they ceased to use that toy. In fact, they would not have needed to bother. He never again tried to fight or to refuse to pleasure one of his abusers. He learned his lesson.  
  
There were others who would have to pay for that. And he could not afford to bring harm upon them.  
  
During that time, he lost count of those who came to him. He did not care. He was caught in self-hatred and despair. The only thing he truly loathed more than himself were the times when he was forced to serve Elrond. The Lord of Rivendell would use him for his pleasure every other day, always in the evenings, always using his mouth, never giving him relief by feeding the spell. Sometimes he would share him with Erestor, his advisor. Legolas loathed these times, loathed Elrond, but he never tried to fight. He would not bring another punishment upon his fellow hostages again.  
  
He thought he could not sink deeper, that there was nothing left of his pride or self-respect, nothing he had to lose. He was wrong. The most horrifying thing, that ripped him out of his acquired numbness, had been when the need and withdrawal set in and his body began to react to his abusers, his mind began to crave the abuse and rape. At this point he thought he would go mad. And he would surely not have survived this time with his mind intact if not for Glorfindel. The Noldor lord visited him often, never using him for his pleasure, but holding him, reassuring him, consoling him, explaining to him the reactions of his body and the workings of the spell. It was due to him that Legolas understood, and regained some respect for himself. Still, he was nearly on the brink of madness, pitifully begging to be taken, tormented by need and the poisoning of his own, treacherous body, when Elrond finally allowed his sons to relieve him and feed the spell.  
  
Afterwards he was given to the twins, and things became a little better. Elladan and Elrohir were cruel in their own way, and they liked cruel games; but at least they did not share him with others anymore. And while they treated him just as their pet, even called him thus, at least they did not treat him as a _**thing.**_ They even allowed him to walk around freely and talked with him to their own amusement when they were in private. Slowly, very slowly, he learned to think again.  
  
It was torture to face the other hostages, even though, to his surprise, he found that they did not all hate him. Still, it was painful beyond measure to see the mutilated girl again, stumbling over things to the amusement of her cruel master, who deliberately put them in her way.   
  
He was glad when both the cruel Elf who owned the _elleth_ and the girl herself accidentally died in a landslide in the Misty Mountains on their way to Rivendell. At least, in Mandos she would find peace and hopefully be whole again.  
  
But it was not until Rivendell that Legolas found hope and a reason to appreciate life again in the grey eyes of an eleven-year-old, human boy.  
  
  
\-- Legolas shook his head, with effort banishing the memories away. He briefly looked over to Aragorn, debating whether he should try to snuggle up to him. Estel would probably be willing to hold him close and give him comfort without asking questions, as he had done so many nights before.  
  
Then he recalled the bargain Aragorn had struck and what had happened the other night, and he dismissed the thought. He was not sure if he could stand the touch of his master right now. Instead, he stood, gathered his weapons and went to relieve Pippin of the watch. He knew he would not find any more sleep this night.  
  
  
____________________ o ___________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _taer cant aniron – Sindarin:_ literally "straight shape (of) desire" – a kind of dildo.  
  
(2) _elleth – Sindarin_ : Elf woman  
  
Additional Notes:  
  
a) about the time frame of the story:  
  
In this part of the story I am diverging from both Book-and Movie-canon concerning the time frame. Bookverse, the Fellowship left Rivendell on December the 25th, reached Eregion (or Hollin) on January the 8th, the Pass of Caradhras three days later on January the 11th and the Walls of Moria at January the 12th. They were traveling for twenty days until they reached the mines. Movieverse, the time frame is the same, only happening two month earlier. But for my purposes, I need the Fellowship a few days longer in Eregion until they try to pass Caradhras. So they are abroad at least 25 days until they reach the mines. Please bear with me!  
  
b) about the entire time of Legolas' enslavement:   
  
One of my reviewers brought to my attention that I have been less than clear about how long exactly Legolas has been enslaved. I hope this will become clearer in this chapter, but for the record, here goes: in this story, Legolas was first enslaved shortly after the Battle of the Five Armies; this means he was enslaved TA December 2941 or January 2942, probably the latter. The exact date is unclear; but it must have happened after Gandalf and Bilbo had arrived in Beorn's Halls on December the 30th TA 2941 on their return route from Erebor and Mirkwood, and stayed there for the winter, because Bilbo was not aware of anything amiss when he arrived in Rivendell again in Mai TA 2942, and had not heard the tale. Legolas came to Rivendell probably in March TA 2942. At this point in time, Aragorn, then called Estel (born March the 1th in TA 2931) was just eleven years old. Legolas was given to Aragorn as his slave nine years later, when Aragorn came of age in March TA 2951. At the time of this story (TA 3018), Legolas has been enslaved for 76 years and he has been in Aragorn's exclusive possession for 67 of these. I apologize for the confusion!


	29. Past And Present II: Glorfindel

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions.  
  
 **Special warnings for this chapter** : mention of _torture, **rape, gang-rape** and **mutilation.**_ All in flashbacks only, and no graphic description, but the implications in this chapter are still **grim**. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ “speech”; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXVII. Past and Present, II: Glorfindel**  
  
  
Legolas huddled deeper against the big trunk of the tree he had chosen as lookout for his watch, and let his eyes trail around the sleeping camp. It was late in the year and most of the leaves had already fallen; there was hardly any foliage left to hamper his vision and the branches were just big and thickly spread enough to hide him from unfriendly eyes from a distance. Just right for a Woodelf on watch-duty. In any case, he did not feel comfortable on the ground right now and needed the tree's reassuring presence to give him comfort.  
  
The voices of these trees here were faint, not as clearly defined and awake as the trees in Rivendell, especially the big one that had given him comfort so often in the past; and they could even less compare to the wakeful trees of Mirkwood, at least the ones close to his father's halls, which were still in league and friends with his people. These trees here were of Eregion; they had not known Elves for a very long time, and even then they were used to another kind of Elves, one who dismissed trees and saw them mostly as a means to light the fires of their smithies. There had been far too few Sindar among the Noldor of Eregion at that time to speak to the trees and appreciate their voices. And even so, the Elves of Eregion were gone a very long time ago. Still, the trees had voices, and the one he had sought shelter within now had felt his pain, and tried to soothe him.  
  
At the very least, it would protect him and help him in his watch, give warning if any evil drew near. And this was something he would need right now, distracted and upset as he was by his earlier nightmare.  
  
Shivering, Legolas huddled himself tighter together and fought against the lingering pain and despair. He shuddered again as he thought back to that time. After that incident with the girl, he had nearly been broken. He had simply ceased to care. At the time he arrived in Rivendell, he had been already been better, although it still took quite a while until he had really been able to develop something akin to self-confidence and self-respect again. He just owed it to Glorfindel that in the end he did not break, but managed to recover at all. He would not have survived with his sanity intact if not for the golden-headed Noldor Lord.  
  
Desperately, Legolas recalled the many reassuring words Glorfindel had given him at that time, and especially the counsel the Noldor Lord had given him concerning that girl. It had been about two weeks after the extension of the spell, and early in Glorfindel's frequent visits in his little tent. After a few visits, Legolas had learned to know the Noldor Lord from the other enemies who visited him for their pleasure, and finally, hesitantly, he had began to trust him, simply because there were no other sources of reassurance to be had and no one else he could trust or confide in, and he needed _someone_.  
  
Glorfindel had patiently calmed him down; the first, few conversations with the Noldor Lord must have resembled trying to calm a panicked and skittish horse abused by his masters. Still, the seneschal had visited him again and again and finally he got Legolas to calm down in his presence and really _listen_ to him. And slowly, Legolas had started to trust again, especially since the other Elf never sought to take his pleasure of the slave. In the end, Legolas could even allow Glorfindel to touch him without retreating behind inner walls. Even now, he would trust the Noldor with his life, nearly as much - and, painfully enough, sometimes even more – as he trusted Estel.  
  
For Glorfindel had never intentionally hurt him.  
  
Then again, Glorfindel had never given him his love. And while the Noldor Elf had saved Legolas' sanity with his counsel and support, it had been _Estel_ who later managed to make Legolas want to live again.  
  
Still, while Estel had conquered and come to own his heart, at first Glorfindel had given him the strength to survive and recover.  
  
It has been during one of these visits in the first month of Legolas' enslavement that Glorfindel surprised him with a most astonishing confession.  
  
  
 _// / Legolas was kneeling in the very place where the last couple of rapists and abusers had left him. He was trembling in shame, head bowed down. He desperately wished to be alone, although the one keeping him company presently had come to be welcome company to him and normally he was glad for the Noldor Lord's visits. Yet right now he was all too aware of his tattered garment, the reek of sex, and of the lingering traces of the recent abuse still evident on his form._  
  
None of that seemed to bother Glorfindel, though. The golden-headed Noldor Lord was busy cleaning Legolas' body with a soft cloth, soap and a bowl of clean, warm water, as naturally as if such ministrations to a mere slave were the most normal tasks for the seneschal of Rivendell.  
  
The plain attentions had a calming effect on the stricken slave, but they did nothing to disperse Legolas' despair and shame. Nor did they lessen the first, raw, revolting currents of need and desire coursing through his system. The Noldor Lord had gently explained these feelings to him as an inevitable side-effect of the spell that bound Legolas now, even more effectively than his still bound hands.  
  
“Withdrawal,” Glorfindel had explained, “first it will manifest itself in need and desire, later it will transform into the driving need to be taken, and at last it will make you sick and kill you. Only those to whom you are bound to can stop the process. But Elrond has forbidden us to give you that relief for the time, and as much as I regret this fact, he is right in this: you **need** to go through the process at least once so you will understand what it will do. But do not despair! None of the feelings you will be forced to experience belong to you; they are caused and enforced by the spell, and you do not need to be embarrassed about them.”  
  
That had not been very reassuring, nor had it done much to endear the Noldor Lord to Legolas at first; but by now he was grateful for the explanation. Still, the knowledge did nothing to lessen his despair and self-loathing. Again he wished that he could die. Yet he was denied such mercy.  
  
Glorfindel cleaned his exposed shoulders. He flushed and bowed his head to hide his face.  
  
Nearly inaudibly, he said: “You must despise me, My lord!”  
  
To his astonishment, Glorfindel denied it.  
  
“No, Greenleaf. I do not despise you. In fact, I respect you very much.”  
  
Legolas' head came up in shock. Then he shook his head. “You mock me, My Lord!” he said bitterly, feeling an inexplicable feeling of loss and grief at the thought. Why he expected anything else from the Noldor Lord, he did not know. And yet, was it not simply what he deserved?  
  
Glorfindel shook his head. Legolas saw it, yet did not trust the gesture. With effort, he bit back his tears and his feelings of despair and betrayal,and spat out: “Why would you think this? What would be honorable about me?”  
  
Glorfindel set his bowl away and knelt down in front of the upset slave. Seriously, he looked at the distressed face before him and held Legolas' gaze.  
  
“I do not mock you,” he said.”I do respect you. I respect you for what you were willing to do for your people. It takes courage to sacrifice oneself for others, but more courage to do it the way you did.”  
  
Legolas shuddered. He could not hold the gaze of the Noldor Lord and averted his eyes.”Oh, yes,” he spat bitterly, “it is such a honorable thing I do! I am everybody's whore, and they use me at their whim and wish. And I am serving them like a common harlot, as if I were a seasoned slut. Look at me! I cannot even **die** as I should do! I am an abomination!”  
  
He looked down, unable to face the gentle Noldor Lord he had come to respect and trust.  
  
Glorfindel sighed and set the cloth away. He waited patiently for the slave to raise his head again, but when he didn't, he reached out and tipped the chin of the other Elf gently up with two fingers.  
  
“Look at me,” he commanded gently. ”I do not care what you are forced to do. You are under the spell; that is the reason why you cannot die, as you surely would if you had been forced through this without the curse. It has nothing to do with your worthiness, nor is it a rejection of the Valar; it is a side effect of that damnable curse. And you weren't all that willing to submit your body from the start, were you?”  
  
Legolas' gaze faltered again and he blushed deeply. He bit his lips. The girl!....  
  
Tonelessly, he answered: “No, I wasn't.” Then, after a moment, he continued in the same, flat tone: “Forgive, My Lord! I... spoke out of line. I request punishment, if you would grace me with it...”  
  
Glorfindel looked at him another moment with regret and pity, then he sighed and shook his head again.  
  
“No, Greenleaf! You did not speak out of line and I am not here to punish you! I understand that you have trouble to adjusting to your new fate, but there is nothing dishonorable in that. It would be alarming were it different! And I do not mock you when I say that I respect you. I understand sacrifice, and I understand that you gave yourself into slavery as a hostage to avert Elrond's threat to kill your father and burn down your home to the last of your people. It takes great courage to do that, even if you did not fully realize what it would include at the time. You knew enough. Truly, it is **one** thing to die in battle for your people to save the innocents from an overwhelming enemy or to cover their flight to safety. It takes strength and courage, but it lasts only a moment, or even a few days, and then it is over. But to willingly embrace slavery and humiliation to protect those who you love, possibly forever, without even the prospect of release in death, that takes **more** than courage. It is a sacrifice of the highest order. How could I not respect that?”  
  
He shook his head, looking sadly at the younger elf, who stared at him with gaping mouth.  
  
“Don't give up on yourself, Greenleaf. There is more strength within you than you know and see right now. I can foretell you have a destiny yet to fulfill. Do not let yourself be broken by a cruel spell that forces on you needs and feelings you have no control to stop or stem, and by circumstances that forbid you to fight lest you risk the suffering and pain of others.”  
  
Legolas stared at him, still disbelieving, then his face became awash in pain and he bowed his head again.  
  
“No, My Lord, I do not deserve your respect or praise,” he said sadly, “not after what I did to that poor girl.”  
  
Glorfindel looked at him for a moment, sadly and with dismay, then he shook his head and sighed. Without any judgment, he asked simply: “Did **you** mutilate her?”  
  
Legolas head shot up, startled. Then he shuddered and bowed it down again. “Not with my own hands,” he said, “but...”He sighed. “It was **I** who caused her torture. It was **my** deed Elrond avenged on her! I could as well have blinded her myself, for I am responsible for her suffering.”  
  
Glorfindel shook his head again. “Did you **know** Elrond would do this to her?” he patiently asked.  
  
Legolas went pale and looked up again. “Nay!” he exclaimed. “Nay!!! I'd never have expected...”  
  
Then he swallowed harshly and looked down again. “But I **should** have,” he added crestfallen, “shouldn't I? Elrond warned me, after all, that whatever I did would have consequences for the other hostages. I should have known he would punish others for my deeds as well!”  
  
Glorfindel looked grim. His face was a harshly controlled mask of anger. What a well-wrought trap Elrond had set for these Elves, especially this young one, and how truly evilly the Lord of Rivendell had thought it out! It took him visible effort to control his voice and his features.  
  
Very carefully, he said: “But did you **expect** him to do what he has done?”  
  
Legolas despondently shook his head. “What does it matter?” he replied bitterly, “He still blinded her!”  
  
Then, after a moment, he added: “No, I never thought he would go after that girl. I thought he would punish **me** , mayhap one of the other warriors taken hostage together with me, but **this**...”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
Glorfindel nodded grimly. “And you knew you, as well as the warriors among your fellow hostages, were ready to take whatever punishment Elrond would mete out on them for your defiance,” he concluded. “You are a warrior, yourself; that you would not suffer abuse meekly without any attempt to retaliate sooner or later was to be expected. And if you had, one of the other warriors among the hostages likely would have put up a fight. You expected to be punished, you even expected one of them to suffer for your deed; and each and every one of your fellow warriors would have gladly paid the price for defiance as well as you.”  
  
Legolas looked at him, disbelievingly. The Noldor Lord didn't agree with Lord Elrond? He didn't think the punishment meted out on the hostages just? -- But somehow, Legolas would have been astonished and disappointed, had Glorfindel reacted otherwise. He had come to respect the Noldor Lord a lot, and he placed trust in him.  
  
Still, he had to disagree. “Not **this** price!” he objected.  
  
Glorfindel nodded grimly. “Which is precisely why Elrond chose to hurt the girl,” he said. “Nothing else would have been as effective in keeping you and your fellow warriors in line. You are not prepared to risk harming the innocent by your actions. Had you not rebelled as you did, had it been one of the others, he would likely have used her to make an example, anyway.”  
  
Legolas stared at him, frozen in horror. “You mean... he planned this?!” he asked, baffled. Then, an even more horrible thought sprang to his mind: “Does he do something like this every time our people have to give him hostages?”  
  
Up to this point, he had thought his careless action, which had hurt the girl, unforgivable. But now he feared that there were a lot more sadly mutilated Elves of his home, cruelly punished to keep the new hostages in line.  
  
Glorfindel bowed his head. His face showed pain.  
  
“No... not exactly,” he reassured the younger Elf. “He was exceptionally cruel this last time. But yes, every time Rivendell takes new hostages, inevitably one of them rebels, and then not only the one who rebels but all the others are punished. And most of the time, Elrond chooses one of the new hostages who did nothing wrong to be punished most severely as an example for the others, although, normally, he refrains from doing lasting harm.”  
  
He sighed. The topic was extremely shameful and painful for him, too. “At least in the body,” he concluded finally, grimly. “I am sorry.”  
  
After a moment he looked up and forced himself to meet the eyes of the young prince again.  
  
“In your case, he made a point of telling the story of your offense and of the girl's punishment to each and every one of your fellow hostages,” he continued. “As you can imagine, it served well to keep them in line.”  
  
Legolas stared at him with burning eyes, then he bowed his head. “I can imagine,” he said tonelessly.  
  
Glorfindel took a deep breath that came out as another sigh. “Yes, but if I am not very mistaken, the effect of this was somewhat different than Elrond intended. I am not so sure you would find the other hostages loathing you, if you were to talk to them,” he said.  
  
Then he reached out and dared to place a hand on the other Elf's shoulder. As he had expected. Legolas flinched,but Glorfindel did not retract his hand, nor did he do anything else than give the shoulder of the younger Elf a reassuring squeeze.  
  
 **“It wasn't you,** ” he said. “It was Lord Elrond, who did this harm. Of course you cannot risk for anything like this to happen again, but your self-recrimination about it is needless and misplaced. It was **not** you!”  
  
The younger Elf trembled under his touch. But finally, after long moments, he hesitantly nodded. Glorfindel nodded back and retracted his hand.  
  
Very slowly, Legolas looked up and met his gaze. “Thank you, My Lord,” he managed.  
  
Then, keeping his voice deliberately neutral, he asked carefully: “Would you tell me, My Lord, how it came about that a warrior and lord like you is serving... Lord Elrond?”  
  
He could not keep the loathing and hatred completely out of his voice when he said Elrond's name, although he made an effort. After all, however understanding Glorfindel might be, Legolas could not afford to forget his position. He was a slave, and Glorfindel was still Elrond's seneschal. Legolas could not afford to alienate the benevolent Noldor Lord by openly insulting his liege-lord in his presence.  
  
Glorfindel just stared at him blankly for a moment.  
  
“He's my liege-lord, as I thought you knew,” he said.  
  
Legolas just stared back at him for a moment, then his face went blank. Dejected, he bowed his head and said, just as he had been taught: “Forgive me, My Lord, I was out of line. I... I request punishment, if you would grace me with it.”  
  
Glorfindel looked at him for a moment, then he took pity on him.  
  
“It's a long story,” he said simply. “I am bound to him by oath. You see, I am bound to serve and protect him and his line, no matter what, though unfortunately I failed in this, since I could not protect him from... from becoming what he is now.”  
  
He shook his head again, his eyes dark with regret and sorrow.  
  
“So all I can do now is trying to lessen...” he stopped himself and ceased speaking.  
  
Very hesitantly, Legolas looked up again, meeting the kind, but sorrowful eyes of the Noldor Lord.  
  
Startled and somewhat disbelievingly he asked: “You swore an oath... to Lord Elrond?”  
  
Again he barely managed to keep the loathing out of his voice as he spoke the hated Elf-Lord's name.  
  
Glorfindel raised a brow at his tone but did not sanction him. He shook his head again.  
  
“No, not to Lord Elrond, at least not at the start,” he explained. “As I said, it is a long story. How much do you know about the history of Gondolin, Little One?”  
  
Legolas stared at him blankly. He had been taught Elven history, of course, but the fights of the Noldor in the First Age were not among his favorite and most intensely studied lessons. He was well versed in the history of Doriath, but Gondolin... something clicked inside his head. “It was a Noldor city in the First Age,” he recited, “long time completely hidden, then betrayed and overrun by Morgoth. The fugitives of that city dwelt for a time at the Mouth of Sirion together with the survivors of Doriath.” His eyes widened. “You are... you've been there?” he asked then. “You are from Gondolin?”  
  
Glorfindel quirked his mouth. Obviously the Mirkwood Elves were among the last few Elves in Middle Earth who did not know - or did not care for - the great story of his slaying of a Balrog, his death and rebirth. What a nice change.  
  
Unfortunately he could not leave it that way.  
  
“Originally, yes,” he allowed. “I was a captain of king Turgon's guard; he was the king of Gondolin. He had a beautiful daughter: Idril Celebrindal. She was his only child. And I was one of her many suitor'.”  
  
Legolas looked at him blankly, asking himself where this might lead. He was sore and weary,and the earlier abuse was catching up with him. Still, he was eager to learn more about the benevolent Noldor Lord who had become his one source of strength and consolation lately.  
  
“Did she give her heart to you?” he asked. But in the back of his mind, he remembered something that didn't fit here. **Maeglin**. Had it not been **Maeglin** who desired Gondolin's heiress but got rejected? And afterwards betrayed the city out of spite? But Idril did not marry an Elf, she married...  
  
Legolas blanched when suddenly the tale came back to him. Glorfindel saw it and nodded.  
  
“No,” he explained regretfully, “she loved another. A mortal, one of the Edain. She even married him! I was heartbroken. But I was so hopelessly in love with her that I swore to her at her wedding I would always protect her and her line, no matter what, as long as I was capable of doing so.”  
  
He sighed. “So you see...”  
  
“Tuor,” Legolas finally recalled from the long history lessons of his childhood. “Idril married Tuor, one of the Edain. Her son was Earendil, who married Elwing, daughter of Dior Eluchir, the son of Luthien (1). And Earendil's and Elwing's sons were...”  
  
“Elros and Elrond,” Glorfindel nodded. “Elros chose a mortal fate, Elrond chose the fate of the Eldar. Elrond remains. And I am bound by my oath to protect him.”  
  
Legolas looked at him in awe and sudden realization. “You are Glorfindel of Gondolin!” he exclaimed, remembering the valorous stories he had loved to read as child, “The Balrog Slayer!”  
  
Then he drew his brows together, looking confused. “But... I thought... you died!”  
  
Glorfindel cocked his head. “I slew the Balrog. I attacked it and toppled it off the mountain. And yes, in doing so, I died. The fall killed us both, and I went to Mandos. But the Valar decided I had not yet fulfilled my destiny. They clothed me again in flesh and send me back so I could fulfill my oath.”  
  
Legolas stared at him.  
  
“To protect Elrond,” he finished.  
  
“To protect Idril's descendants and line,” Glorfindel corrected. “And I failed in this duty with Elrond, since he got touched by the shadow. Elrond was not always like this.”  
  
He stopped, then concluded sadly: ”But I deem that of no great consolation to you.”  
  
The slave held his gaze for another moment, then he looked down. “It is not,” he acknowledged.  
  
Glorfindel just nodded. Then he reached out again and placed his hand lightly on the younger Elf's shoulder. “Just remember that in all your deeds, you may fail even through no fault of yours. And still, even while you fail, your deed itself may stay a noble one. Do not condemn yourself too eagerly. Remember that you did what you did to save your people, and do not allow yourself to be broken. You may yet have a fate to fulfill.”  
  
With that, he packed his things, got up and left Legolas with a lot to think about. / //  
  
  
Legolas blinked, banishing the vivid memory. Quickly, he looked around, reassuring himself that all was well and no danger had approached the fellowship unnoticed. Sighing, he stretched his limbs.  
  
Yes, he owed a lot to Glorfindel. In fact, the confession of the Noldor Lord had done nothing to lessen Legolas' respect for him; instead, after a few days, he was glad that the Rivendell warrior had confided in him and thereby proved his respect to him. This respect and confidence, as well as the sheer distraction of thinking about Glorfindel's story, greatly helped him through the following days of rape and abuse, until the need killed all conscious thought in him.  
  
Later, when Elrohir and Elladan took exclusive ownership of him and allowed him to walk around the camp freely, he discovered to his astonishment that Glorfindel had been right with his assessment of the other hostages. Most of the other hostages did not hate or despise him, or even blame him for what had happened with the girl. Most of the warriors among the other slaves even praised the fact that he had not easily caved in, although they all agreed none of them could risk another deed of rebellion. Instead they blamed Elrond. Elrond's telling of Legolas deed and the punishment for it had only succeeded in causing the other hostages to hate and despise the Lord of Rivendell even more completely than they did before.  
  
Legolas did not dare to speak with the girl, though.  
  
He also learned to his astonishment that Elrohir and Elladan were nothing like their father. They were cruel, yes, and they were inventive, and they trained him very thoroughly as their personal pleasure slave. _**And**_ they liked cruel, prolonged bed-games of torture and pleasure mixed with pain and humiliation. Yet they did not try to break him, but instead coaxed him slowly, but patiently into showing his thoughts and feelings again, even encouraging him to think on his own. They did not want a mindless, broken slave, they wanted a _person_ in their bed, even if they amused themselves in treating that person as their pet. And they did not share him with others, except with Glorfindel. Legolas suspected that the twins knew very well Glorfindel did not use their slave for his own pleasure, but instead used the time to heal and encourage their 'pet'.  
  
But if they knew, they kept a blind eye to that. Apparently they thought if Glorfindel could improve Legolas stability, they would benefit from that as well.  
  
In fact, as much as Legolas came to loathe and fear his new masters and their games, Elladan and Elrohir effectively protected their new slave from Elrond's cruel whims. When Legolas finally came to Rivendell he had almost – almost! - resigned himself to his fate.  
  
That was when he met Estel.  
  
Legolas smiled sadly while he remembered the slightly rocky start of their relationship. He had been sore from riding; Elladan and Elrohir had amused themselves with using a riding crop on him until he was hurting badly the evening before, and forcing him to ride a bony horse the whole next day. He was tired, he was sore, and Elrohir held the lash to his bound wrists as well as the bridle of his horse. He was not allowed to direct the beast himself, of course.  
  
That was the way he first rode through the gates of Rivendell, and he was just glad that they had arrived and the long travel of the day was over. Then, a sudden whirlwind in form of a boy ran down the path and nearly bumped into Elladan's horse.  
  
  
____________ o _____________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1)he whole little foray into the history of Gondolin and Doriath (the Sindar realm of the First Age) as well as the genealogy of Elrond's line is based on the Silmarillion, by J.R.R. Tolkien,edited by Christopher Tolkien, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1999, pp. 143-295 and the tables of the houses of Finwe and Olwe pp. 367 -368. However, the idea that Glorfindel swore an oath to protect Idril's descendants because he was in love with her is purely my invention.  
  
Luthien, the mother of Dior Eluchir, is of course Luthien of Doriath, daughter of Elu Thingol, high king of the Sindar Elves in the First Age, who was slain by Dwarves before Doriath fell, and Melian the Maia. Luthien married the mortal man Beren and became mortal herself. She and Idril are both forebears of Aragorn and Arwen.


	30. Past And Present III: Estel

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
**XXVIII. Past And Present III: Estel**  
  
  
_// / Elladan laughed. "Aiie!" he exclaimed. "Careful, little brother, you're scaring the horses!"  
  
The boy was unperturbed. He danced around with excitement. "Elladan! Elrohir! You are back!" he cried. "Were you victorious? Did you vanquish the evil Necromancer? Did you kill many Orcs? I bet you did! Were there great battles? Did they have wargs? And trolls, and spiders?"  
  
Elrohir and Elladan both laughed at this firework of questions, as well as the other warriors around them. Legolas used the time to rein in his astonishment and study the boy bemused.   
  
The young one had to be about seventeen, given that peredhil grew up like normal elflings(1), and he had a certain likeness to the twins; but for some reason, he reminded Legolas of the children of mannish origin he had seen in Laketown once or twice.   
  
Well, if this was another son of Elrond, he had to have at least a little mannish blood in his veins. Maybe it was more obvious in a child.   
  
Yet he knew for sure that Elrond's wife Celebrian had passed over the sea to the Undying Lands a long time ago; Elrond had blamed Legolas' people for that often enough in the past. Had the Lord of Rivendell taken another lover? Legolas and his people had heard nothing of the sort. And apparently it did not hinder the Peredhel from raping and taking his pleasure of unwilling slaves, either.  
  
Bitterly, Legolas shoved his musings away and concentrated back on the exchange unfolding before him.  
  
Elladan laughed again and raised his hands in feigned defeat. "Stop it!" he cried, "You are firing questions faster than Glorfindel can fire his arrows! Give me at least some space to answer!"  
  
The boy stopped his endless flow of questions and beamed sheepishly. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, "I just want to know..."  
  
He clearly was about to start again, and Elrohir joined in the laughter of his twin. "For the Valar's sakes, Elladan, tell him already or he'll pester us until the sun goes down!" he exclaimed.  
  
Elladan scowled. "Me? He is **your** brother, too! How is it that it is always **me** , who--"  
  
The boy stood before them, fists on hips, scowling in annoyance. Legolas had to suppress a smile at his visible frustration. He felt himself reminded of his own exchanges with some of his older cousins. His mood dampened again. He had Elrond to blame that he himself had never known his oldest brother, and spent so precious little time with his other one. He wondered at the fact that these two cruel bastards he knew as his masters could act like loving brothers between themselves.  
  
"Don't you think you can distract me with your squabbles!" the boy protested loudly."You promised when you went away that you would tell me everything! You **promised!!!** "  
  
Elladan grinned. Then he gave in. "Peace, little brother! Yes, we besieged the Necromancer. It turned out it was really Sauron himself, who dwelt there! Finally, we defeated him and chased him away. It was a long, hard fight and a grim and costly battle, but we won. At last, he fled away to his southern hidey-hole of Mordor, and left his stronghold at Dol-Guldur behind. Afterwards, we killed what remained of his creatures, and there were many! Masses of trolls, wargs and Orcs. But we killed them! The wood there is a safer place right now. Of course, given how long Sauron's malice had time to take hold, it is still a very evil place!"  
  
Elrohir grinned, too. "But for now, the enemy has been conquered, and mainly thanks to us. Of course, father and Glorfindel helped a little!"  
  
Elladan quirked a brow at his twin. "And so did Grandmother, and Daeradar(2), and Mithrandir, and Saruman, and Radagast, not to mention the whole host of the Elves of Rivendell and Lothlorien," he added dryly.  
  
Elrohir beamed at him. "Exactly! As I said, they helped a bit," he said unperturbed, "but **we** did most of the work, of course!"  
  
The boy snorted. He cocked his head, fixing his glance on the twins, and at that moment his hair fell to the side, revealing a very round ear.  
  
Legolas exhaled sharply. Mannish ears! The boy was human, not an Elf! But how--?  
  
The boy heard his hiss and looked up, and for the first time he noticed the bound wrists of the strange Elf he had not registered in his first excitement, and exclaimed in surprise: "You have a prisoner!"  
  
Then he surprised Legolas by performing a courteous bow in his direction and greeting him seriously: "Suilad(3)! I am Estel Elrondion. May I ask your name?"  
  
For a moment, Legolas was too surprised to answer. The twins laughed.   
  
"He is a prisoner and slave, Estel," Elladan said, "you do not need to greet him courteously!"  
  
Legolas flushed. Defiantly, he decided to reward the boy for his kindness with equal courtesy. He returned the bow.   
  
"Mae govannen, Estel(4)," he said with his melodious voice. "I am Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood. I am a hostage."  
  
Elrohir raised his brows and gave a slow smile. "Our Woodelf-Pet seems to like our foster-brother, Elladan," he said. "Even if he tends to forget his manners!"  
  
Legolas looked back at him, startled, and realized he had just walked into a trap.  
  
But the boy drew his brows together and asked puzzled: "Hostage?" He looked questioningly between his brothers and the slave.  
  
Elladan's face mirrored Elrohir's smile. "He is our new slave," he explained, "and he has just earned himself a punishment, because he forgot he is forbidden to address anyone without permission."   
  
Elrohir shrugged. "He is new, you see. We have been teaching him manners, but he hasn't completely learned them, yet."  
  
Estel seemed puzzled. "He's a slave?" he repeated.  
  
Elladan explained: "When we fought against Sauron, the cowardly Mirkwood Elves failed to join in and offer their support. They let us fight alone, although the matter of the infestation of their wood with evil should be mainly their concern in the first place! So after we defeated the Dark One, father decided to reestablish his power as their overlord and took the army north. And as compensation for their failure they had to give him slaves. Their king offered up his own son just to avoid a harsher punishment! So this one here is now our slave and property, although we have yet to teach him proper manners."  
  
Elrohir cast the slave a dangerous smile. "But never fear, little Pet, we will soon teach you better!" he threatened.   
  
The boy – Estel -drew his brows together, trying to process the information. But Legolas had had enough. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, he knew he would just earn himself another punishment, but he could not help himself.  
  
 **"That is not true!"** he blurted out quietly, but heatedly. "My people are no cowards!"  
  
Both Elrohir and Elladan stared at him in utter amazement, as if they just could not believe their ears. The still present Noldor guards cast him sinister looks and shifted their weapons in their hands. But Legolas had gone too far already to stop now. He would be punished anyway; better then to finish making his point.  
  
"'Tis not true that we failed to fight at your side out of cowardice," he said. "We had to fight our own battle in the north at the time against the Orcs who swarmed our wood and all the lands around Erebor and Laketown in great numbers. It was a battle against overwhelming odds, although we stood at the side of a host of Dwarves and Men, and we lost many warriors there!"  
  
Elladan still looked at him in amazement, but Elrohir gave a slow, malicious smile. "Hear, Hear!" he said. "Our Pet has spirit, yet! It seems he is not yet properly tamed!"  
  
Elladan raised his brows. "I agree," he said. "we will have to give him our closest attention, then, tonight." He turned to their slave. "You still amaze me. You earned yourself another punishment, and this is one you won't soon forget. You seem to develop a liking for the whip, Woodelf-Pet!"  
  
Legolas refused to answer. He knew it would probably worsen his punishment, but he refused to beg them for a penance for defending the honor of his people. Elladan and Elrohir were not in the habit of taking their wrath at him out on the other hostages, as Elrond would have done. As long they did whatever they planned to do to **him** , he was ready to bear it.  
  
Elladan shrugged and turned to Estel. "Do not believe his lies," he said harshly. "They fought their battle for jewels, not to repel a threat. They only dared to leave their woods and go to Erebor because shortly before a man had slain the dragon that dwelt there, and they wished to secure a part of the treasure for themselves. And they only stood against the Orcs because when the Orcs came to Erebor in great numbers, doubtless also to squabble about the treasures, they advanced too fast for the Mirkwood Elves to retreat without a battle." He turned a cold glare to his slave. "As I said, cowards!"  
  
Legolas felt too drained to rise to the bait again. Besides, what was the point? He knew the son of Elrond was lying through his teeth, he knew the words were meant to provoke him so that he would give them an excuse to punish him even further, and he knew he could not win this fight, no matter what. So, he just refused to give an answer.  
  
Then he looked down at the boy. The young one scowled at him.  
  
"I despise cowards!" Estel exclaimed and spat at the feet of Legolas' horse. Then he turned around and ran away.  
  
Legolas watched him go. He knew it had been too much to hope this young one would be different from his foster brothers. He was still raised by Lord Elrond after all.  
  
So why did he suddenly feel so empty?  
  
  
____________-o ______________  
  
  
A few days later, Legolas was kneeling on the floor in the big quarters of his new masters, where Elrohir and Elladan had left him. He was cleaning their boots, several pairs of them, and polishing them with grease, as he had been ordered.   
  
He was hurting all over from last night's latest round of abuse and punishment. The twins had made good on their threat to teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget for a while, and they had drawn it out during the last few days. There was hardly a place on his back, his ass and thighs, that did not hurt.  
  
He looked up when he heard a noise, and there in the doorway stood the boy he had met that first day in Rivendell. The young one watched him carefully out of thoughtful grey eyes. His face was inscrutable. He seemed curiously shy and shifted his position uncomfortably.  
  
Legolas was not supposed to address anyone without being addressed first. And he was not about to let himself be baited into earning another punishment. So he just waited for the boy to speak.  
  
Finally, the boy came hesitantly closer. Without preamble, he said: "I spoke with Glorfindel. He told me about you."  
  
Legolas raised a brow, but did not answer. The boy swallowed.   
  
"He told me of the battle your people fought against the Orcs. While my foster-father attacked Dol-Guldur. He called it a great battle and said it vanquished the Orcs in the north hopefully for a long time."  
  
Legolas nodded, but did not reply. The boy studied him. He seemed still very uncomfortable.   
  
"He said, father nevertheless demanded a honor-debt of your people, because they failed to assist him in the fight against Sauron. And that you gave yourself willingly into slavery in payment of that debt to appease father's wrath."  
  
It sounded questioning.   
  
Legolas looked at the boy. Still he said nothing. He could have argued that nobody invited the Mirkwood Elves to the attack on Sauron's stronghold in the first place, probably because neither the Elves of Rivendell nor those of Lothlorien trusted their subjected Mirkwood brothers not to take the opportunity to rebel or to demand their freedom. But what was the point? He would just give the brothers another excuse to torture him.   
  
Not that they needed any to do so if they were in the mood.  
  
The boy still watched him intently. "Glorfindel says that this is a honorable thing to do, that you gave yourself up to avert harsher punishment from your people. He says I should respect you."  
  
For the first time since Estel had entered, Legolas spoke. Quietly he said: "Lord Glorfindel is a noble Elf and a honorable warrior."  
  
Estel beamed at him. "Yes he is, isn't he? He is Glorfindel of Gondolin, you know! He once slew a Balrog!"  
  
Legolas nodded again, amused at the boy's hero-worship. He felt himself reminded of his own reaction when he read that particular story as a little Elfling.   
  
Estel hesitated again. Then he said seriously: "I am sorry I sneered at you the other day. I was rash and unjust in my judgment." He stepped carefully closer. "My apologies."  
  
Legolas stared at him in complete disbelief. Then he decided that the boy – unbelievably, but nevertheless obviously – meant it. Obviously, this one was very different from his foster-brothers.   
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"Thank you," he offered, and gave the boy a solemn and serious bow, "your apology is accepted, Estel Elrondion. I am grateful." After a moment, he added: "You are gracious!"  
  
The boy blushed. "Call me Estel, please," he said. "Everybody does." Then he added after another moment of hesitation: "I would like it... if you were willing... I would like you to be my friend."  
  
Legolas looked at him in amazement. Carefully, he answered: "I am the slave of your brothers..."  
  
Estel shrugged. "Aye, I know. So you will probably spent a lot of time in Rivendell," he said. "We could do a lot of things together. I could show you your new home. I know all the good places."  
  
Legolas blinked. If he remembered correctly from his own time as Elfling, 'all the good places' were either ones where you were not supposed to go, or those you were at least not supposed to go **alone** without an adult. Or places that would never appeal to any adult anyway, since they were cramped, dusty and hard to reach. He fought a smile. The boy was serious; he deserved a serious answer.  
  
Besides, Estel sounded so very hopeful, and a little lost. Legolas asked himself how many playmates the boy might have. While his own people still had many Elflings because they needed to fill the losses left by Orc raids or hostages given to the other Elven realms, he had heard that in the other Elven realms people had stopped reproducing for a long time now.  
  
Slowly and very seriously, he said: "I would like that very much, Estel. I will be honored to be your friend, as much as my duties to your brothers permit it."  
  
He was rewarded with a brilliant smile. The boy nodded once, then turned around. "Let's go, then!" he exclaimed. After a moment, though, he noticed that Legolas did not follow.  
  
He turned around again. "What are you waiting for?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I have been ordered to clean your brother's boots," he said, "and I need their permission if I want to go with you."  
  
Estel scowled, and Legolas looked down, disappointed. He set the finished boot he had been working on away and reached for the next one. His back ached, and he made a grimace.  
  
Estel hesitated. "You are hurt," he stated in sudden understanding. "Did they beat you much?"  
  
Wordlessly, Legolas nodded. Estel bit his lips.   
  
Then he nodded. „All right, then! Let me talk to my brothers! I am sure they will agree to 'lend' you to me; they will be glad if I do not pester them for a while!" He smiled mischievously. "Afterwards, we can go and I can show you around, if you like!"  
  
Legolas looked at him in amazement and felt his heart go out to the boy. "Thank you, Estel," he said in a heartfelt tone.   
  
The boy smiled at him and turned to run to his brothers. Legolas watched his retreat.   
  
Very hesitantly, he allowed himself to dare to hope again. / //_  
  
  
_____________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas smiled again, slowly withdrawing his mind from the memory. Half an hour later Estel had returned with Elladan, and after the twin determined that it had been Estel's idea, not Legolas', to steal the slave away from his normal duties for the day, Legolas had been given a most serious warning that should _anything_ happen to Estel, not only he but all the other hostages would pay for it dearly. And afterwards he and the boy were off together. At the end of the day, though completely exhausted, Legolas had seen the kitchens, Estel's rooms, the training grounds, the gardens, the stables and even Estel's most favorite places in the woods and at the waterfalls. Though he still hurt from the traces of the beating he had received the night before, by talking to the boy and listening to his endless chatter about such normal and important things like slaying dragons, angering the crows, teasing squirrels, exploring caves, stealing from the cook and doing everything else you did when you were an eleven-years-old human boy (or you had done once at the time when you had been a seventeen-years-old Elfling), Legolas had started to laugh and feel alive again.   
  
Nor had it ended there, because Estel afterwards 'adopted' the new Elven slave of his brothers and 'borrowed' him as often as he could, until they spent nearly every amount of free time Estel had together. A year later, Estel wheedled permission from his brothers with a little help of Glorfindel to let Legolas teach him the bow, effectively giving his Elven friend the joy of rekindling his skill with that weapon. Whenever Legolas would train his own skills with the bow, Estel watched him and beamed as if he had shot every hit himself. And even later Legolas was allowed to accompany Estel on his first longer hunting trips and explorations of the forest. They became nearly inseparable, whenever Elrohir and Elladan did not demand their slave's services.   
  
Even those services got easier to bear with time, since the twins found that they were at a loss to explain to their curious young brother why Legolas so often had to move so stiffly and hurt at funny places. While they would simply tell Estel that Legolas was unavailable this week when they wished to play harsher games, they found that their little brother was curious and crafty enough to try and work around that, since he believed his enslaved friend was simply 'grounded'. So they saw themselves forced to tame down the bed-games most of the time. They even began to take Estel's feelings for their slave into consideration in the way they treated Legolas. They did not want to hurt their little brother by injuring his beloved companion. They even defended the whole development of Estel's and Legolas' friendship and their own changed attitude towards the slave to Elrond.  
  
And since both twins were in the habit of taking long expeditions away from Rivendell to hunt Orcs, and did not yet dare to take their slave with them on those since Legolas _with_ a weapon was a danger, and _without one_ a liability, Estel and Legolas indeed had a lot of undisturbed time together. In those times, Glorfindel was the one who fed the spell for the slave, although the Noldor Lord loathed the necessity, though he never complained or let his dismay out on Legolas.   
  
Legolas remained Estel's faithful shadow and trusted friend until the time Estel began his first, fumbling and awkward explorations into sexuality. Then, their relationship got a bit awkward, and soon afterwards it transformed itself into much more. But by then, Legolas would gladly have given his life, his heart and his very soul for this boy – and the young man he had grown into – and count himself blessed to do so anyway.  
  
Until Elrond succeeded in ruining even that beyond repair.  
  
Legolas gaze searched and found the dark lump in the camp that was the form of his sleeping master. He felt as if he would drown in his torn feelings. It had been Estel who had given him hope and had protected him, had called him back to life again and finally had taught him to love. It had been as if he had found shelter from a nightmare.  
  
_And now, the very man who once had been that boy who made him live again was about to throw him back into his old nightmare! Once again he was to become the unwilling bed-toy of anyone who pleased to take him and who gained his master's permission to do so._  
  
Legolas cried, helplessly and desperately. He made no attempt to stop the tears, simply huddling deeper against the tree trunk. Finally – it felt like hours, but probably it had been only minutes – the tears subsided and he tried to compose himself again.   
  
He hooked his arms around his knees, rocking slightly. Harshly, he reminded himself that Aragorn very likely was not aware of what he truly demanded of his slave. There was an important point to consider. A point he needed to remember, he must not forget.  
  
_**Estel did not know.**_  
  
He did not know what happened to Legolas during these first few month directly after his enslavement, did not know what Legolas had been through before he came to Rivendell and became his friend. Estel met him first when Legolas had already become the exclusive property of his brothers. And since Estel had been just eleven years old at that time, the twins had never told him the whole tale. Instead they had carefully kept the sordid details from the boy.   
  
And later, during the many nights of nightmares when Estel had patiently held Legolas until the Elf's trembling ceased again, Legolas had mostly refused afterwards to give him details of what exactly those dreams had been about. And Estel, generous as he was most of the times when he was not playing his games, had let him keep his secrets.   
  
All Aragorn had ever heard from him and others were some hints that Elrond had lent the Mirkwood Elf out to others now and then before he had been given to the twins - and later to Aragorn - as slave. Legolas was not sure if Estel had not learned some more about this time during their first visit in Lothlorien; there had been that incident when Haldir had nurtured a broken jaw a week or two after trying to talk Aragorn into sharing his slave and bragging that he already had tasted him once. At least the fight had been enough to make it clear to everyone to whom the slave belonged, and that his owner would not share, and afterwards Legolas had thankfully been left alone. Haldir had even made a truce of sorts with Aragorn, since the Adan had earned his respect with his blow.  
  
When Aragorn had asked Legolas about Haldir's bragging afterwards, the Elf had just told him that it had happened when he was first enslaved, before he had been given to Aragorn, and that Elrond had given him to Haldir for a night as a reward. It was not exactly a lie, but he had also not disclosed the whole tale.   
  
Even so, it had been enough to appease his master. Legolas did not know how much of the story Haldir had told Aragorn, or how much Aragorn had learned from other Elves, but from his master's behaviour afterwards he had guessed that it could not have been much. And Aragorn had never asked him for more details of the tale since.  
  
No, Aragorn had no way of really understanding why Legolas loathed it so much to have to share himself with others than his master, and what the decision to keep the bargain of sharing Legolas with Boromir meant for his slave. He probably thought the whole affair nothing more than the deal he had once made with his two closest confidants among the Rangers, Halbarad and Onogdir, second and third in command among the Dunedain.   
  
That had been during heir fifth year among the Rangers. Aragorn had been very seriously wounded in a fight with wargs; the wounds were nearly fatal, and he had been dangling between life and death for weeks. There was no way he would have been capable of feeding the spell. In those rare moments when Aragorn woke from his fever and was clear, he had commanded Legolas to leave his side and return to Rivendell, but Legolas had outright refused to obey. He would not leave his side, keeping watch and taking care of him until he was exhausted. They had argued. Legolas had told Aragorn that he was welcome to punish him if he survived, but to do that he should _please_ focus on surviving. No argument nor threat had managed to send him away. When Legolas began to show serious signs of withdrawal, Aragorn had been positively desperate.  
  
Of course, Aragorn knew - and Legolas rightly argued - that Elrond and the twins would refuse to save Legolas anyway if he came back to Rivendell without Estel, having left his master badly wounded and probably dying; and even Glorfindel might have had second thoughts under such circumstances. Yet that did not pacify Aragorn's desperation. He feared his slave would die on him even if he finally recovered. And indeed, it had been close.  
  
In the end, what saved Legolas' life was a chance visit of Elrohir and Elladan to the Rangers. As soon as the twins learned what happened they had smoothly taken control of the situation. One had taken the already severely suffering Legolas to bed, the other had dedicated himself to assist in Estel's healing, and they took turns in that until Legolas and Estel both were out of danger. They allowed the slave back to the bedside of his master only after Legolas was completely recovered. When Aragorn was healed, they shared the slave with him a few times more for old times sakes and as a kind of 'payment' for their troubles before they left again.  
  
As soon as they had left, Aragorn took Halbarad and Onogdir into his confidence and extended the spell to them. Legolas had loathed it, but he had been unable to refuse Aragorn's logic that they could not risk anything like that happening again, and that Aragorn needed to know Legolas was safe and had someone to fall back to among the Rangers even when his master could not take care of him himself.   
  
  
Legolas stared through the leafless branches of the tree into the fading night.   
  
  
Yes, he had loathed it then, too, at first, and then he had learned to accept it. But there was a difference. Halbarad always treated Legolas as a comrade and a friend. Whenever Legolas was forced to lie with him, be it because Aragorn was absent or otherwise hindered to feed the spell, Halbarad treated it as two warriors giving each other comfort and joy in friendship and respect. He never simply used Legolas for his pleasure. Of course, Halbarad also fancied him and had joked once or twice already that if Aragorn ever would give him up - or if the Elf ever wanted to leave their chief - Legolas would be welcome to join Halbarad's bedding for good. Most of the times, he made those jokes well in Aragorn's earshot, and they were nothing more than good-natured teasing. Halbarad would _never_ treat the Elf just as a whore.  
  
And Onogdir, while not that welcoming, treated sharing his bedding with the Elf simply like necessity, a kind of medical treatment on the rare occasions Legolas had found himself in need to turn to him. Onogdir did not like Legolas that much - nor did he like _Aragorn_ , as a matter of fact - but he never treated him other than a free warrior, either.  
  
Neither of them would ever dream of taking the slave to bed just to feed their pleasure, or seeing him as a simple pleasure-boy.  
  
_But Boromir would do that._  
  
And Aragorn did not see the difference, or if he saw it he probably thought it a mere detail and unimportant.  
  
No, Aragorn had no true idea what his command did to his slave. He couldn't.   
  
He just wanted to keep him safe.  
  
Legolas sighed and stared into the now increasingly brightening sky. Dawn was near. It was time for him to end his musings.  
  
Stretching his limbs and forcefully composing himself, he thanked the tree for its support, then he got up and climbed down again.  
  
It was time for him to wake the Fellowship.  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
\-- TBC--  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) Elves reach physical maturity between fifty and a hundred years according to Tolkien's essay „Laws and customs of the Eldar", History of Middle Earth Tome X (Morgoth's Ring) pp. 207-214, here especially page 210. They come sooner to the mastery of their bodies than human children, but stay in childhood longer. With the age a human would reach his or her full height – about eighteen- an Elf would still look like a child between seven or ten. Therefore I estimate that an Elfling just short of the beginning of adolescence would be between the age of seventeen and twenty, and about forty he would be the equivalent of a mortal teenager of sixteen or seventeen. If Estel was Elrond's natural child, he would be an Halfelf ( _Sindarin: Peredhel_ ), and develop like one. Obviously, Legolas thought halfelves would grow like normal elves.  
  
(2) _Daeradar – Sindarin:_ Grandfather. The grandfather of the twins is Celeborn, and Galadriel is their grandmother.  
  
(3) _Suilad-- Sindarin:_ Greeting (to you). _Estel Elrondion – Sindarin:_ Hope, son of Elrond  
  
(4) _Mae govannen – Sindarin:_ Well met!


	31. Keeping The Bargain

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : none. Except some graphic sex, and debatable consent, as mentioned. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXIX. Keeping The Bargain**  
  
  
Aragorn woke to a gentle shake. He was instantly awake and alert, but the gentle pressure remaining on his shoulder for a moment made it clear to him there was no real danger. He opened his eyes to a cold, early dawn. The sun wasn't up yet, and the dark was just giving way to grey, dizzy twilight.  
  
He got up on his elbows and looked at the still form of his slave beside him.  
  
Legolas was kneeling. He seemed somehow uneasy, slightly uncomfortable, and was fidgeting with his bedroll. Aragorn could see that the hadn't found much rest, and seemed curiously shy to his master's scrutinizing gaze.  
  
Sighing, Aragorn leaned back, then he rolled himself out of his coat – all the shelter he had found this night, since the blanket he had washed the evening before was still damp - and sat up. He reached out a hand and traced Legolas' cheeks. He found his slave leaning into his touch, but to his dismay he felt him slightly shivering. Gently and with concern, he drew the Elf toward himself and kissed him lightly on the brow.  
  
"Good morning!" he greeted him gently, and when the slave leaned against him with only a murmured reply, he asked quietly: "What is it, Little Leaf?"  
  
Legolas didn't answer immediately. He just huddled deeper into his master's touch. After a moment, he asked shyly:  
  
"Would you... would you hold me, Estel?"  
  
Aragorn hesitated a moment, astonished at this change of mood from yesterday, but then he simply enfolded the Elf wordlessly within his arms. Legolas closed his eyes and nestled gratefully against him. Aragorn held him close, luxuriating in his warmth and touch. Quietly and tenderly, he began to pet his Elf's back and head. He could feel Legolas trembling slightly in his arms. Very slowly, the trembling died down.  
  
For a moment, Aragorn felt a twinge of panic. _Legolas could not possibly be in need again already, could he? He had been cautious, he had been careful not to tighten the bond any further than absolutely inevitable, he was **sure** he had! _  
  
Quickly, he rubbed his face against that of his slave, inhaling his smell, checking for the tell-tale signs of desperate desire and unwanted arousal. Then he gently tipped the chin of his slave up and looked searchingly into his eyes.  
  
He sighed in relief. Exhausted, yes; grieved and with a haunted expression, some sort of despair. Probably nightmares again, or ugly memories; for an Elf they were practically the same. But no signs of withdrawal, not even of the earliest stages of need. After more than seventy years he knew the signs for _**that**_ with certainty, and better than he cared for.  
  
Very gently, he asked: "You seem exhausted, Little Leaf. Did you find rest at all last night?"  
  
Legolas fidgeted.  
  
"Not much," he finally admitted, "I woke early and could not return into dreams again, so I relieved Pippin of his watch a bit earlier than was due."  
  
Aragorn did not stop his gentle petting, but he made a face. He resisted the impulse to ask _how_ early, exactly _'a bit earlier than was due'_ had been. Instead he asked quietly: "Why didn't you wake me?"  
  
Legolas shifted a little in his arms, and Aragorn searched his gaze again. The slave averted his eyes.  
  
"There was no need," Legolas lied, "it was close to the beginning of my watch, anyway. I deemed it unnecessary to trouble you, when I had to get up so soon afterwards again."  
  
Aragorn studied him for a moment. He knew he was lying; Legolas was never good at withholding the truth, much less at lying through his teeth. He sighed. "How close to your own watch was it, really?" he asked.  
When Legolas did not answer right away, he raised a brow. "Well?"  
  
Legolas hung his head. "Two hours," the slave finally reluctantly admitted.  
  
Aragorn shook his head, gathering his stricken Elf more closely in his arms. "One day, _melethron_ ," he said quietly but with dry, resigned humour, "we need to talk about your definition of a _'short time'_!"  
  
He felt his slave starting to tremble again and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "Shhh, it is well" he soothed. "Just remember next time you are plagued by nightmares again to wake me. You need your rest, too, once in a while,you know, Little Leaf!" Legolas nodded mutely. He leaned deeper into Aragorn's touch and sighed with relief.  
  
"Thank you," he said quietly and gratefully, "Thank you, Estel!"  
  
They stayed that way for some more time, stole a few undisturbed, precious moments together, until the first of the Hobbits stirred and on the other side of the camp Gandalf grumbled and slowly scrambled up. Slowly, but inevitably, the Fellowship woke and got up around them.  
  
It was time for another long day's march.  
  
  
_____________ o ___________  
  
  
During the whole day, Legolas stayed close to his master. Even when he chatted with the Hobbits, he did not leave Aragorn's vicinity, and he did not undertake any scouting missions that day.  
  
In the evening, after the haggling to divide the watches – Boromir, to his dismay, got the first one, again - the Fellowship settled down around the small fire they decided to risk, since they still had not met any creatures of the enemy. Legolas chose a place close beside his master, and when Aragorn opened his arms for him, he settled himself comfortably between his master's legs, back nestled against him. Aragorn savoured it, leaning his own back against a tree and petting his Elf absent-mindedly while he inserted the occasional comment into the animated chatter of the other members of the Fellowship. It was one of the few assets of the new situation, he reflected: at least he and Legolas did not need to hide the nature of their relationship and their affection any more. While the Hobbits at first had glared at him, they soon seemed to accept that Legolas at least seemed comfortable where he presently was, and minded their own business. Legolas, on the other hand, was unusually quiet, seemingly content to let himself be petted. He seemed drowsy, close to drifting off into Elven dreams.  
  
Once or twice, Aragorn could see the sullen and increasingly dark looks Boromir shot them.  
  
He sighed.  
  
As wonderful as it was to luxuriate in Legolas' sudden desire for closeness and the fact that they could now openly indulge in showing affection, there was a bargain he needed to fulfil.  
  
Careful, he leaned forward and whispered into his Elf's ear: "Try not to walk your Elven dreams too deeply, tonight, _melethron._ "  
  
Legolas started a little and turned half-way around in his arms, giving him a questioning look.  
  
Sighing again and resigning himself to the disappointment he knew he would cause, Aragorn explained:  
"It is Boromir's turn to have you, tonight."  
  
He saw the face of his Elf crumble, and hurried to add quietly and soothingly: "Shh! It's what we agreed to do. And it is for your own good! You need not fear him. I don't believe he is out to hurt you." He paused and stopped himself. After a moment, he added: "And if he does, in any way, the bargain is off. I promise."  
  
He spoke very quietly, so the others of the Fellowship would not discern the content of their conversation. He did not care for Boromir to insert his own thoughts into this matter and thereby make it even worse. And neither did he care for involving the Hobbits. Of course, he'd spoken Sindarin, so neither Boromir nor Gimli nor most of the Hobbits would understand his words even were they overheard. But Frodo, for one, _did_ understand Sindarin, and so did Gandalf. In fact, looking across the fire, he felt both the eyes of the gentle Hobbit and the watchful gaze of the wizard on him.  
  
He ignored them and concentrated back on Legolas.  
  
Legolas shuddered. Very hesitantly and equally quietly, he said once more: "I do not like to share myself with others beside you, Aragorn."  
  
It was a daring move, yet he felt he had to try, at least one more time. At least, his master seemed in a much more indulgent mood tonight.  
  
Aragorn hesitated. "You were never that hesitant to lie with Halbarad," he said with hard-won patience, "or Onogdir."  
  
Legolas swallowed at the slight note of incomprehension he could hear in his master's voice. Very quietly, he said: "Halbarad always treated me as a comrade. He... he never saw me simply as a bed-toy, Aragorn."  
  
He saw his master's uncomprehending look and his voice broke. Resignedly and quietly, he added: "I am sorry, My Lord. I just..."  
  
He swallowed hard in fear of Aragorn's anger.  
  
But the feared harshness never came. Instead, Aragorn kissed him gently.  
  
"Look," he said, "it is just for the time of the Quest. And what does it matter if Boromir does not see you as a comrade right now? _He will keep you safe_. That is all that matters now. He was gentle enough with you the other night. And I will not allow him to hurt you!"  
  
After a moment, he added reasonably: "Do not fear! Soon enough, we'll find ourselves facing the enemy, and as soon as Boromir gets to see you fight, he will come to respect you again. It's hard to disdain someone to whom you owe your life. Believe me, I would know!"  
  
Legolas hesitated. "Do you... did you have a vision, Estel?" he asked quietly.  
  
The eyes of his master darkened in pain. He shook his head as if to banish an unwelcome thought, and his face grew grim. A far-away look entered his eyes.  
  
Quietly, he replied: "I saw the Fellowship hunted. No time to pause, no time to give you what you need, no time to feed the spell. You... you were..." He could not go on and shook his head again.  
  
"--Dying," Legolas supplied. He quickly looked around to the dancing shadows the flames of the fire cast. He wasn't shocked. If that was to be his fate, he was ready to bear it.  
  
Across the fire, on the other side of their little camp, he could see Gandalf's head rise, and the wizard gave them a sharp look. He realized that the Istar had probably heard and followed their little exchange, in spite of the chatter of the Hobbits. The old wizard had sharp ears, if he wanted.  
  
Aragorn drew a deep breath, then he gently shook his head and kissed his slave on the brow. "--too weak to keep up," he supplied finally. "And there was no way I could stay behind with you. We had to leave you."  
  
His face was grim. He shook his head again. "There is no way this side of Mandos or beyond I'd let that happen. Boromir can give you what you need, even when there is little time. He won't need to... do what I need to do to you. He... can do what I cannot."  
  
His voice faded, croaky in its rawness. Finally, he added: "Do you not see, _melethron_? I need to know you're safe. And _he_ can _keep_ you safe. And more, he..."  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"He won't have to hurt you," he whispered. Then he swallowed hard and found his resolve again. Fiercely, he added: "This is no punishment I place on you, nor a cruel game. I would have you see this as a gift. I would have you relish it!"  
  
Legolas looked at him, stunned by his agitation and his pain.  
  
Quietly and earnestly, he said: "I do not relish it, master. But I will do as you say."  
  
  
________________ o ______________  
  
  
When Boromir got back from his watch to his bedroll this night, he found Legolas waiting for him. The Elf had already spread out Boromir's bedroll and placed his own beside it. His weapons were discarded and in easy reach, but Legolas had also shed his tunic and his belt and wore merely his undershirt and leggings. He had placed himself on Boromir's bedroll and laid his blanket loosely around him. At first, Boromir thought he might have erred about the place where he left his pack, but then he noticed it neatly placed beside his own bedroll.  
  
Of course Aragorn had in the end agreed to keep the bargain the other day. But then the Elf had seemed so unwilling and reluctant to leave the Ranger's side that Boromir had nearly expected he would not get to taste the slave again without a fight. Unwilling to confront Aragorn in front of the Hobbits and risk their censure in the matter, he had postponed that confrontation to the next day.  
  
Yet now here the Elf was waiting for him like a gift ready to be unwrapped!  
  
He frowned and knelt beside the Elf. "Legolas," he said, deliberately using the slave's name instead of the more derogatory addresses unbidden entering his mind, "what are you doing?"  
  
The Elf shed his blanket, rolled around and looked up to him. Quietly and without visible emotion, he said: "It is your turn tonight."  
  
Boromir studied him. The slave did not seem excited at the thought, but neither did he seem fearful or completely loathing. Besides, Boromir had seen the other day what this Elf could do if he set his mind to an attack. Could it be that he _liked_ the prospect of sharing himself?  
  
Cautiously, he asked: "You came to me out of your own, free will?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. He refused to meet the Adan's gaze. "My master ordered me to come to you," he said. "Yet he is right; it was the agreement that I would have to share myself with you. Should you wish me, I will be with you tonight."  
  
Boromir drew his brows together. "But do _you_ wish it?" he asked hopefully, "Do _you_ wish to be with me?"  
  
Legolas looked away. "It does not matter what I wish," he said sadly. "The Fellowship decided it should be this way, and my master is bound by this decision. He will keep to the agreement he has made with you. It is your turn tonight, and so I will share myself with you."  
  
Boromir shook his head. He felt curiously abashed that Aragorn would send the Elf to him although Legolas was clearly not eager to obey, but then again, perhaps he could do something about the latter. Slowly, he grew comfortable with the situation. Still, to think that only a few days ago, he had started to _respect_ this so called _'prince of Mirkwood'..._  
  
"So _this_ was what you and your Ranger were whispering about all evening," he said, feeling oddly disappointed that at a mere word of Aragorn the slave would offer himself up obediently like a whore. Of course, Legolas had not put up any fight during the extension of the spell two nights before, either. "I was beginning to wonder already if he would keep the bargain."  
  
Legolas nodded. "He will abide by it" he merely said.  
  
Oddly fascinated, Boromir reached out and touched his face. "He must be glad to have such loyalty," he said. "Were you mine, I would not share you with anyone."  
  
Legolas shuddered slightly under his touch, but did not pull away.  
  
Boromir traced his features for a moment, then he drew his hand back. "Very well, then" he said, somewhat breathlessly. "Help me undress. I would relish tasting your sweetness and getting the chance to sheath myself in you once more." He licked his lips, devouring the Elf with his eyes, admiring his soft glow against the night.  
  
Legolas blanched a little at the Adan's words, but he stood up as he was ordered and helped the man of Gondor out of his coat.  
  
"I believe that was the point, My Lord," he said quietly, "though you may do whatever you wish to do tonight, as long as you do no lasting harm."  
  
Boromir gasped. _**"Everything -- I wish?"**_ he repeated disbelievingly. His eyes were wide.  
  
The Elf actually smiled at him, although it was a joyless smile. "Yes, although of course within certain limits. You heard my master's words to the Dwarf the other day. You have no leave to harass or to torment me, or to do lasting harm. Nor am I bound to obey you outside the bedroll, or to be your servant and do your chores. But otherwise, I am to serve you as you please. Of course," he added in an afterthought, "we may be hampered a bit by the need to be discreet and quiet, though we may leave the camp should you wish to have some privacy." It sounded bitter, yet resigned.  
  
Boromir's face was grim. "Your master is quite careless if he grants such a generous and barely restrained use of you to men he has scarcely known for more than a few weeks," he said. "Were you mine, I would take better care of you. I would make sure I was the only one who was allowed to touch you, and everyone else who tried to lie a hand on you would taste my sword!"  
  
Legolas said nothing. He had freed Boromir of his heavy overcoat, and Boromir found he had already folded it neatly and placed it in a little pile on the pack. Now, he relieved him of the belt and began to tug at the bindings of Boromir's jerkin.  
  
Boromir stood still and let him work. It was a nice change for once to be fussed over and attended to the way he used to be at home in Gondor, at least in his father's palace. In the field, he normally did without fussing aides or eager valets. But apparently, Aragorn's Elf had good practice in _this_ function as well.  
  
Boromir started to really envy the Ranger.  
  
Wordlessly, he raised his arms and assisted the Elf in pulling the jerkin over his head. Legolas folded the heavy leather quickly and placed it neatly on the pile. Boromir observed him in growing fascination. He noticed the slight stiffness in the normally gracious and nimble gestures of the Elf, the carefully blank face, the thin and joyless line of the lips.  
  
He resolved to change that, if he could. Maybe, he could bring the Elf to the point that after this night, Legolas would _look forward_ to sharing his nights with him instead of with his master.  
  
He stepped close and indulged his desire to touch. Gently, he took the well developed shoulders, pulled the slave up and drew him close. Legolas didn't resist, and Boromir enfolded the slender body in his arms. He felt the Elf shiver and knew it for fear and reluctance, not anticipation and desire, though Legolas' face betrayed nothing.  
  
Yet the archer held obediently still under his touch and made no move to pull away.  
  
Carefully, Boromir started to explore the slender neck, the long, silken hair, the leaf-shaped ears. Legolas gasped at that, and Boromir smiled. He continued to let his hands roam for a while, exploring the well-muscled chest, the straight back, the narrow hips. The soft cloth of the undershirt hampered his explorations, and he wished to touch bare skin; but for that he preferred some more privacy than they had here.  
  
He felt his groin twitch. It was time to take this to some place outside the camp.  
  
Yet the slave was still shivering in his arms.  
  
Boromir sought his lips and kissed him. He savored the enticing sweetness, the obediently opening mouth, yet he allowed himself barely more than a taste for the moment.  
  
"Do not fear," Boromir finally said, "I do not wish to do you harm or to hurt you. I would like to taste you again, and to bring you pleasure. And I would enjoy being within you, yet I would prefer if I don't have to hurry this time. I'd like to taste you thoroughly, tonight. I did not get the chance to do so that first time."  
  
The Elf under his hands shuddered again, though he finally looked up and returned his gaze. "You do not have to hurry. I am yours tonight,"he offered quietly. "Though there will be many other nights ahead for you to take whatever you want. The Quest is long."  
  
His eyes were a tad too bright, betraying unshed tears, although his face was still carefully blank. His muscles under Boromir's touch were rigid in reluctant submission. He still shivered slightly, though he tried to control it.  
  
Boromir's groin twitched again. He drew the Elf even closer to himself and kissed him again. The slave hesitated a mere heartbeat, then he obediently opened up for him, and Boromir tasted him thoroughly.  
  
He finished the kiss and caressed the Elf's face and ears again. "Then I will do that," he said hoarsely, "and deeply enjoy it. I do not wish to do you harm, and I hope I may even bring you to the point where you do not weep before or after you have to allow me to touch you."  
  
Legolas looked a bit startled. "I am not weeping now," he said.  
  
Boromir cocked his head. "No," he said, "and I hope I can manage that you do not weep later, either. I know you have been _ordered_ to lie with me, but perhaps, if you give me the chance, I can even cause you to enjoy it." He traced the face and ears of the unresisting Elf again and asked: "Will you kiss me?"  
  
Legolas eyes widened. Then he obeyed. Boromir tasted sweetness again and felt the body under his hands surrender a little of its stiffness.  
  
He smiled.  
  
"Come," he quietly commanded, "I think we may indeed wish for some privacy. Take your blanket and your knives, sir Elf, and if you happen to have anything to ease the way, I'd suggest you bring it with you, too. Let us find some quiet spot outside the camp where we will not disturb the others."  
  
Legolas shot him another amazed look, yet obeyed him wordlessly. It took just a short rummage through his pack to find the vial with oil Boromir had suggested, and then he grabbed his blanket and the knives and followed the Adan out of the camp.  
  
They did not go far, only far enough to be hidden from view and out of immediate earshot from the camp. Boromir had buckled his sword on again; it would not do to be weaponless, should they find themselves surprised by a hostile creature of any kind. He had also brought his bedroll with him, and now he laid it on a dry spot on the ground, unbuckled his belt again and set his sword beside it in easy reach. He sat down and patted the blanket beside himself invitingly.  
  
"Come here, sir Elf," he said, "undress for me!"  
  
Hesitantly, but obediently, the slave knelt down and set his knives aside. He yielded his boots, shirt and leggings, and finally his loincloth. He placed the garments carefully beside them, and laid the vial atop the little pile.  
  
Boromir felt the water gather in his mouth at the reluctant but obedient gestures and watched hungrily while the glorious body was slowly revealed for him.  
  
Then the slave finally arched his back and bowed his head, letting his legs fall slightly apart, and knelt in glorious nakedness before the man of Gondor, presenting himself to his view as he had been trained by his masters.  
  
Boromir heard himself gasp and had to swallow hard. _Aragorn must be mad to share such a prize with anyone!_  
He approached the Elf a little and knelt before him. Gently, he tipped the head of the slave up.  
  
"Not like this," he said. "You do not need to fear me. Kiss me, sir Elf. I wish to feel your hands on me!"  
  
Startled and amazed, the Elf hesitated a moment to obey, but then he carefully reached out and started to touch the Adan's face. He scrambled closer and kissed the man again. His hands trailed higher, touching the round ears, then down the neck, thumbs feeling the beard -so different from Aragorn's familiar stubble – then down the powerful shoulders, well-defined under the covering shirt the man still wore. He tasted the man deeply, engaging for a moment in dueling tongues. Then he abruptly pulled back, his eyes wide with amazement and sudden fear.  
  
 _ **What was happening to him?!**_  
  
He felt his groin twitch, felt arousal kindling in his veins, felt himself react to the unfamiliar body. Yet he was far away from the time he should feel need and be thrown into desire. And yet, this man was completely different from Aragorn.  
  
Boromir noticed his astonishment, but he didn't feel alarmed. He saw the waxing erection of the slave, the flushed cheeks, and interpreted them correctly. He smiled, and felt his breath quicken. It made him giddy to have such power over the unwilling Elf that he even could order him to take the initiative, and that he managed to wake his responses. Gently and with some devilish delight he drew the hesitating Elf close again, placed his partner's hands back on his own shoulders, and encouraged him to go on.  
  
After a mere heartbeat of bewilderment, the Elf obeyed and continued to caress him. Boromir savoured the exploring hands, but soon the gentle touches roaming him were not enough for him anymore and his own hands came up. He seized the face of the Elf again and took him in a demanding kiss, then he gathered him in his arms, guided him slowly on his back and down onto the bedroll.  
  
"Now," he ordered hoarsely, "lie still for me!"  
  
And with that he began to explore his partner in earnest, touching with hands, lips and tongue, roaming and petting down the breast and over the whole body, and concentrating on learning the strange body's reactions, trying out what made him jerk, shiver and squirm. He savored the curiously hairless chest, skin so smooth like a woman's, but too well muscled and without the softness a female body would provide; he lapped and worried the sensitive nipples until they stood red and erect, eager for more, and he heard his partner whimper at his tongue's explorations; and then he licked further down towards the nearly hairless groin. To his delight, he found that it took him not all that long to make the lithe body squirm in pleasure and desire under his touches. The Elf was incredibly responsive as soon as he allowed himself to let go!  
  
Finally, Boromir reached his goal. He took the half-erect member into his mouth and licked and suckled it to full arousal, delighting in Legolas' gasps and little whimpers under his ministrations.  
  
Then he got up – smiling at the involuntary little groan of protest uttered by the Elf – and freed his own erection.  
  
"Now, my dear Elf," he said, smirking, "I think it's time for you to use that vial of oil you brought, if you do not wish me to take you unprepared!"  
  
Breathing hard in anticipation, the Elf rolled around and reached to the spot where he had placed the vial. He uncorked it and knelt before the man, dribbling some of the fluid into his palms. Then he closed the vial again and touched the straining erection of the man. Carefully and practiced he coated the hot flesh of the Adan's shaft with the fine, scented oil, breathing hard in anticipation. He could see little drops of pre-come already and swallowed hard. Done, he lay back on the bedroll and opened his legs wide for the man.  
  
Boromir had to bite his lips to prevent himself from coming too soon at the eager invitation. He took the vial from the Elf and coated his fingers, then he set it away and knelt between Legolas' legs. Taking his partner's legs, he placed them up over his shoulders. Then he entered the body before him with two fingers, stretching him a bit and massaging until he found the sweet spot. He curled his fingers and delighted in seeing his partner squirm and gasp in pleasure; then he withdrew – the Elf moaned a bit in frustration – and replaced his fingers with his own, eager member.  
  
Legolas gasped in sudden pain as the thick cock entered him, and Boromir stopped immediately, giving him time to adjust. After a moment, the resisting muscles of the slave's passage relaxed, and Boromir drove deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed. He gasped in pleasure. It was incredible to be surrounded by the hot, welcoming flesh of his partner, seeing the look of wonder and abandon on the flushed face of the Elf. He reached down and caressed the slim sides, the erect nipples, then one hand trailed down and found his partner's straining erection.  
  
Slowly, then ever faster, he began to move within his living sheath, massaging the rigid flesh under his hand in counterpoint. He found the angle that made Legolas squirm and gasp with each new thrust and adjusted his own thrusting to give his partner the most possible pleasure. For a moment, he saw the deep, disbelieving eyes of the Elf, wide open and unseeing in intense passion; the look nearly made him come all in itself.  
Then the Elf closed his eyes, mouth agape, and Boromir thrust three more times and spilled himself. When he came, he felt creamy, pearly fluid coat his hand and soil his undershirt. Gasping in bliss, he pulled out and collapsed beside his pliant partner.  
  
Legolas' eyes were closed. His lips were whispering a name, tonelessly and nearly indiscernibly. Yet Boromir had the nagging impression it was not his own.  
  
Mood spoiled a bit, he sighed and trailed the flushed, heaving chest of his partner, glistening with sweat and traces of the Elf's own come. "Bad slave," he joked, "you soiled my clothes when you came!"  
  
It was meant merely as a joke, but Legolas instantly stiffened. Dragging himself back from whatever place of abandon his mind had fled to, the Elf swallowed hard and brought his breathing under control with effort. After a moment, he said bleakly:  
  
"I am sorry, My Lord. I... I request... punishment, if you would grace me with it."  
  
Boromir felt as if he had been doused. Ripped out of his bliss, he shot the Elf an incredulous look.  
  
"It was a joke!" he said. "I hope you did not take me seriously? Or... do you _like_ to be hurt?" For a moment, the way he had found the Elf, bound, half-naked, draped over the thighs of Aragorn, being whipped by the Ranger, flashed through his mind. Had he misread the scene? Was this Elf one of those sick minds who drew pleasure out of the pain and humiliation inflicted on them?  
  
But he had seemed delighted enough by Boromir's gentle ministrations just moments ago....  
  
The Elf flushed deeply and tiredly shook his head. "No," he whispered, "I do _not_ enjoy that. I am sorry I misunderstood your meaning."  
  
Boromir decided to try to banish that look of tired resignation. He rose up on his elbows, leaned over his partner and kissed him deeply. "Good," he said, "because at the moment I hardly feel up to spanking you. And concerning the clothes, I could not care less!"  
  
He stole another kiss. "You were wonderful!" he said, stroking the naked chest, "You gave me great pleasure, master Elf. Thank you! I am glad I'll have the chance to repeat this with you, soon."  
  
The Elf bit his lips.  
  
Boromir sighed. He had thought the Elf had enjoyed their sharing, too. In fact, only moments before, he had been sure of it.  
  
"Even if you don't seem to enjoy it," he said a bit disappointed.  
  
Legolas closed his eyes. "I _did_ enjoy it, My Lord," he said. "It is just... " he stopped himself. "Forgive me."  
  
Boromir watched him closely. He felt a sudden stab of jealousy.  
  
"This master of yours has your loyalty, has he not?" he asked abruptly.  
  
Legolas shivered at the Adan's tone. _So, now the punishment would come, anyway!_  
  
"Yes, My Lord," he answered truthfully.  
  
"And you obey him," Boromir said flatly, "whatever he commands you to do."  
  
"I am bound to, My Lord." Legolas said a little sadly, "I am his to command."  
  
"And without his command, you would not do this again with me?"  
  
Legolas shook his head and braced himself for the Man's anger. "No, My Lord. I am sorry."  
  
Boromir looked grim. "He's a fool," he said harshly, "to treat you the way he does. Were you but mine..." He trailed off. More harshly, he said: "Well, I hope at least you did not loathe the experience, because I will surely insist on having some share of you as often as is due. You are too good a prize to miss the chance!"  
  
With that, he got up and cleaned himself with Legolas' loincloth, then he adjusted his clothes and covered himself. He bowed down, took the hand of the still lying slave and pulled him up.  
  
"Come," he commanded, "dress yourself. It is time to return to the camp."  
  
The Elf sat up and followed his command miserably. Wordlessly, he used the soiled loincloth to wipe himself, then, leaving it aside, he slipped into his leggings and shirt and donned his boots. He wrapped the soiled cloth neatly in a bundle and stood up, taking his knives, his blanket and Boromir's bedroll.  
  
When they started to walk, Legolas bowed his head and looked at his feet. _He should have known the wondrous moment of their sharing earlier would not last! And yet..._  
  
Suddenly, his sharp ears picked up a soft rustle in the bushes, and his head whipped up. The noise ceased. Legolas' brows came down as he stared at the place where he had heard the noise.  
  
Boromir saw his reaction. He drew his sword to defend them against the perceived threat, but Legolas stopped him.  
  
"It is probably just one of our comrades," he said softly, "out to relieve himself. I feel no danger."  
  
Boromir sighed. "You have keen senses, master Elf," he said, "and more uses than one!"  
  
Shrugging, he sheathed his sword again and started to walk into the direction of their camp.  
  
Legolas followed him slowly.  
  
He had a very good idea who their watcher might have been, and he was proved right when they returned to the camp, and he found Estel's bedroll empty, although it was not Aragorn's watch at the moment.  
  
So, his master had taken it upon himself to watch over them the first night his slave had been forced to offer himself to another man at his command.  
  
Somehow, Legolas found it hard to be grateful.  
  
  
________________ o ________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --


	32. Past And Present, IV: Falling In Love, I

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Angst. And one single kiss between an seventeen-years-old Estel and an adult (Legolas). Everything else happens between adults, I promise! _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
  
**XXX. Past and Present IV: Falling in Love, Part I**  
  
  
Legolas dreamed...  
  
  
_// /Warm lips were closing over his own and a soft, warm tongue was teasing his mouth. His whole body tingled at the touch. Before he knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth and tasted sweetness. The teasing tongue slipped inside and started to explore. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, his whole body was glowing with warmth. The tingling reached his groin. He felt himself melting under the touch, felt the sweetness of Estel's breath mingling with his own --  
  
Then his mind regained control, his eyes flew open and he forced himself to withdraw, staring startled at the young man who had just claimed his mouth.  
  
He saw Estel's flushed face, met his gaze, gleaming in love and adoration. "I always knew you loved me!" the young man said.  
  
He felt his own body react, even while his consciousness sent icy warnings through his mind. He drew back as if burned and tried to bring himself under control again. / //_  
  
  
Legolas shifted in his sleep, lingering on the memory. It was a pleasant one, although a part of his consciousness warned him that there were bitterness and pain yet to come, mingled with the sweetness. But in his heart he knew that he would always remember this first kiss, that he would hold it precious and recall it to the end of his life, even were he to live to the end of Arda. And it had started innocently enough, after all...  
  
  
_// / "Teach me how to do it!"  
  
Legolas looked at the young man sitting before him on the thick branch they shared. Estel's face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with excitement from their previous game of hunting each other and the following, long and competitive climb, which Estel had – naturally – lost again. There was hardly a way the young human could gain any victory over his Elven friend if they competed about anything concerning trees or the woods, or quickness. Luckily enough, by now, Estel usually took such losses against his Elven companion with good grace.   
  
Legolas raised a brow.  
  
"Teach you how to do what?" he asked.  
  
Estel patted the branch they were sitting on. "Teach me how to run in the trees!" he said, "The way you do it!"   
  
Legolas looked at him bewildered, not sure he had understood him correctly. "You want me to teach you how to walk on branches?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Estel shook his head.  
  
"Not walk! Run!" he exclaimed. "The way you did just now! The way you irritated me by climbing one tree, then changing to another and another, so when I tracked you down I lost the trail of you again; and when I finally found you and climbed after you, you easily ran away so I could not catch you until you let yourself be cornered. You do that all the time – run along one branch, then jump to the other and the next. It looks fantastic!" He beamed at the Elf, eyes gleaming with admiration and a little longing. "I want to learn that, too!" he finally concluded.  
  
Legolas watched him sceptically. The young man looked determined, really taken with the idea.  
  
"Estel..." he began carefully, then, after a moment, he asked: "Why do you want to learn that?"  
  
Estel looked at him incredulously.   
  
"Why?" he asked surprised, "Because it is a great skill, of course! And it looks like fun!" He beamed again. "It would be very useful while hunting game – moving above your prey, catching it unawares! And it is a great skill for an ambush against Orcs! Why shouldn't I want to learn how to do it?!"   
  
He watched his Elven friend another moment, then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You are stalling, aren't you? Why?"  
  
Legolas opened his mouth to answer, but Estel shook his head and raised a hand.  
  
"No, on second thought, don't tell me! I do not want to know! You probably think I'm human, and therefore clumsy, or lacking balance, or too heavy – whatever. Well, whatever it is, forget it! I want to learn it, so just stop stalling and let's try! I am sure that you can teach me **anything!** "   
  
His eyes, still sparkling in excitement, showed a dangerous mix of anger, determination, and trust.   
  
Legolas heart sank. It would be hard to talk him out of this!  
  
He raised his brows and sighed. "I am not sure I can," he said honestly. "It is an Elvish thing to do, you see, just like talking to the trees. I tried to teach you how to do that, too, remember? It just didn't work."  
  
He looked at his younger companion, hoping that Estel would rise to the bait and let himself be distracted into some good-natured teasing game and subsequent wrestling match about the superiority of humans versus Elves. He tensed, ready to jump up and run away should Estel lunge at him.  
  
But this time, the young man didn't take the bait. Instead, Estel scowled.  
  
"Aye, I know. I am just a human," he said accusingly, "so there is no point for me to even try, is there?"   
He looked away. Legolas was surprised at the hurt and disappointment in his voice.   
After a moment, Estel angrily continued: "But it's not true that this is just an Elvish thing! Elrohir and Elladan can't do it, nor most of the other Elves in Rivendell. I bet even Glorfindel can't do it, although he probably would not be above trying and he might be able to learn it, if he wanted, too!"  
  
There was a distinctive undercurrent in his voice suggesting that Glorfindel, at least, could learn **anything** if he just set his mind to it – and an unspoken insisting: 'and so can I!'_

_Legolas bowed his head. He found it hard to deal with Estel's dismay. "I think it may be a speciality of Woodelves," he admitted. "I learned it when I was little, barely half your age in Elven years. And I've done it ever since, all my life. Everyone at home does!"  
  
Instead of being disheartened, the young man before him looked triumphant.   
  
"There, you see, you had to learn it, too! It is not just a thing that you were born to, like understanding trees or Elvish senses!" he said. "I bet you weren't even all that good at it at first! You see, it's nothing exclusively Elvish! You can teach me!"  
  
Legolas felt his heart sink and knew he was fighting a losing battle. This was not a temporary whim of his human companion and friend. Estel was determined and had made up his mind, and there was no way to talk him out of this. Still, Legolas had to try.  
  
"Estel," he began cautiously, "I think..."  
  
He stopped at Estel's expression. The young man scowled at him.  
  
"I know," Estel said bitterly. "You think I'm clumsy, dense, slow on my feet, and I lack balance. I am hopeless, ugly and without any grace. In short, I'm human!"   
  
Again, Legolas was shocked at the anger and bitterness he heard in the young man's voice. This was more than just normal disappointment. Estel was really hurt. But whoever had said such things to him?  
  
No matter. Estel was obviously pained.   
  
Legolas could not bear it.  
  
"That's not true," he exclaimed, touching the young man's arm. "You are not clumsy! You are strong, quick on your feet, and you have a lot of balance!"  
  
"--for a human," Estel added bitterly, as his brothers had so often done when they teased him.   
  
Legolas shrugged. "Maybe. You **are** human, after all, and so your weight and proportions are different than ours. Remember what Glorfindel said? **Of course** your balance is different than that of an Elf! But it is **your** balance you have to care about, not anybody else's. And you have a lot of balance, and a lot of grace, and your own kind of beauty. You are beautiful and graceful! Anyone who does not see this must be blind!"  
  
He stopped suddenly and flushed. Startled, he realized that he had said too much, and bit his lips. His face felt warm, and he had the uncomfortable suspicion that his cheeks wore a distinct blush and his ears had to be bright red. He swallowed.  
  
But Estel looked at him with bright eyes and an oddly hopeful expression.  
  
"You think I'm beautiful?" he asked eagerly.  
  
For a moment, Legolas hesitated to answer.  
  
Just half an year ago, he would have had to lie to call Estel anything but clumsy, awkward and, yes, even less than a beauty. During the last few years, Estel's body had grown immensely and gained height and muscle. Spreading up like a young sapling, there had been a time when the young human had seemed to be all arms and legs, in addition to an oddly pimpled face, much to Estel's great shame and dismay. Even worse, the balance and coordination of the young human could not keep up with his growing height, and there had been a time when he resembled a walking disaster. Estel's mother Gilraen – whom Legolas liked and respected very much – had sworn that this was a perfectly normal development for a human of that age, and Glorfindel reassured the despairing young one in the same way, too, telling Estel that he had fought at the side of a lot of humans in the past and that this was the normal way for them to grow up to men. Still, this had done little to reassure the dismayed teenager, who had to bear his brothers' merciless teasing on top of his own fears and despair. It had been hard for Legolas to deal with Estel's disappointment and resentment at times, although he had done his best to be the dependable friend and the strong, reassuring tree in the flood Estel needed.  
  
No longer. During the last few months, Estel had grown accustomed to his new height and mass. No longer did he resemble a thin sapling with too long limbs; now he was distinctively human in his broad shoulders, narrow hips, strong arms and curly brown hair.   
  
And even more importantly, he'd won his grace and balance back much to his own joy and Legolas' secret satisfaction. Estel's skin was clear again, and even the thin foam of hair starting to spread on his chin added to his attraction. Estel had been dismayed at that, too, until his mother reassured him that a beard was a visible sign of maturity in men.   
  
Yes, Estel had grown into a well-formed, strong, promising young man of innate beauty and grace. And he had developed from a moody teenager to a happy, gracious companion again.   
  
And if Estel was happy, as a rule, Legolas was happy, too.   
  
After a heartbeat, Legolas nodded. "I do," he said. "And I think you are comely, and you have a lot of grace, although both Glorfindel and your mother say that it will still take some time until you cease to grow and reach your final stature. They say it will probably happen when you are eighteen or nineteen."  
  
He saw Estel's gleaming, hopeful look of pleasure at his words, and his own face suddenly felt very warm. He swallowed again and had to compose himself. He could not afford to let himself be distracted. And Estel was still far away from his majority, he was only...  
  
"I will be eighteen in just a few weeks," Estel said with a smile. He still seemed curiously pleased at his Elven companion's words.   
  
Then he got back on track. "So you see," he said with finality, as if everything had been cleared up now, "you can teach me!"  
  
Legolas looked down, crestfallen.  
  
"Estel," he began again, dismayed, and then he said unhappily: "I am afraid I cannot do that!"  
  
He braced himself against the storm of disappointment. Carefully he looked up.   
  
Estel scowled. "But you just said..."  
  
Legolas looked back down at his hands.   
  
"It is too dangerous," he explained quickly. "Should anything happen to you – should you fall and break your neck, or your back, or even just a limb – your brothers and your father would skin me alive. That's not the worst, though; if you were injured because of me, I could not live with myself, anyway. But they would also torture and kill the other hostages! At least any of my people who are here and on whom they can lay their hands. I cannot risk that!"  
  
He bit his lips and braced himself again against the expected disdain of his friend at his perceived over-carefulness and 'cowardice'. But to his astonishment, the feared sneering and scolding did not come.  
  
Instead, Estel kept silent for a moment, then he reached carefully out and touched Legolas arm. "Always you think first of your people," the young man said with a trace of wonder and admiration in his voice.  
  
Legolas looked up, completely taken by surprise. Estel's voice – and his face – were devoid of disappointment. Instead, they held respect and understanding.  
  
But then the young man smiled again and beamed at him.  
  
"You need not fear, though!" he said. "We'll just be extra careful! And we won't tell anyone! I will do anything you say, follow all your instructions. With you teaching me and staying close, nothing will happen to me! I am sure of that. You'll see!"  
  
Legolas stared back at him and knew his battle lost. He could not bring himself to disappoint that display of trust and acceptance. He could not deny this boy – no, he corrected himself, **this young man** – anything.  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"All right," he finally said, "but you must promise that you will follow my instructions in this. And we can't start right now. We will need rope, and privacy."  
  
Estel looked a little disappointed, but he nodded, knowing he had won and unwilling to risk the victory. "Rope?" he asked, "why would we need rope?"  
  
Legolas looked grim. "To bind ourselves together," he said. "If you fall, I can keep you safe. Or if I can't, at least we fall together. Maybe the trees will try to catch me. They do that sometimes."  
  
He saw his younger companion's look of disbelief, but he ignored it. The trees of Rivendell were not like the trees of his home, but they knew him by now, and he was still a Woodelf. They had kept him safe in dangerous situations before. Maybe it would be enough. He had to risk it.  
  
_________________ o _______________  
  
  
They started early the following day. Legolas found a place deeper in the woods, close to the river and the old beech tree that had become his favorite place to seek rest and comfort whenever he needed to be alone in this valley of his enemies. He had brought twenty feet of rope, enough to provide security, but allow jumps from tree to tree if needed. He led his eager companion to a place with some big trees around his favorite venerable beech and they climbed up to a few big branches about fifty feet above the ground. There Legolas secured one end of the rope around Estel's waist, the other around his own. He chose a place where they could practice easily, but had a few branches below them to stop their fall at need, should such prove necessary. They started slowly, Legolas placing Estel's hands on his waist and walking him along the bigger branches; later, he carefully let him walk alone and even jump from one branch to another a few times.   
  
At first, everything went well. Estel was eager to learn and followed Legolas' instructions obediently. He was curiously pliant and smiled when Legolas held his hands or let him hold his teacher's hips while he taught him to walk forward and backwards on the branch and feel the space behind him with his feet without losing his balance. But soon, the young man grew impatient with their slow pace and wanted to do more – not only walk slowly and jump from one thick branch to the next one only a few feet away, but run and jump to other trees as he had seen his Elven friend do it.  
  
Legolas protested that they should give it another day or two, but Estel grew mutinous.   
  
"You are too cautious," he scowled. "Look, I can walk along the branches by now! Now teach me how to do it fast! I'm no clumsy toddler who needs to hold hands for every step any more. I can move faster. And I want to jump between the trees like you!"  
  
"Estel," Legolas began with a slight note of impatience and warning, but the young man was not in the mood to listen anymore. He suddenly jumped up and ran away, assessing the distance to the tree next to them, and jumped – to Legolas' horror and dismay – without further warning. To his great joy – and the great relief of his teacher – Estel reached the branch he'd aimed for and regained his balance. Then he stood there and grinned back at his scowling teacher. "You see?" he cried triumphantly, "I can do it!"  
  
Legolas resigned himself to the situation. "All right," he gave in while he followed Estel to the other tree. "We can move along a few trees, but you still need to follow my directions! **Please** , Estel, we **need** to do this carefully!"  
  
But the young man, overjoyed with his success, was in no mood to listen. As soon as Legolas had followed him, he ran along the branch, aiming for the next branch, then the next tree and the next. Legolas followed. He could have stopped Estel by stopping and clutching the branch where he was, simply letting his companion reach the end of the rope; but he feared that Estel, should Legolas stop him like this, would simply cut the rope and go on alone. And he couldn't risk that.  
  
It took only a few minutes until things went wrong. Estel saw a tree close by with a promising branch and ran to jump the slightly greater distance of about five feet, deaf to Legolas alarmed cry: **"Estel, no! Not that one!"**   
He even reached the other branch, but his feet found no hold. The tree had been struck by lightning once and it was dead. The branch was wet with mould and moss, and Estel lost his balance and fell. He tried to grab the branch, but his hands slipped off and he fell a few feet further. Legolas braced himself for the jerk when the rope would stop the fall. Then, Estel found hold on a lower branch of the dead tree, and after a few moments he managed to scramble up again. Legolas relaxed, looking down to his charge and then around, assessing the surrounding branches for a way to get Estel back to safety.   
  
He froze. They had started at a place where they were not too far above the ground. But in Estel's eagerness to race across the branches, he had not paid attention to such things as the formation of the valley, and the dead tree he'd chosen to jump reached its branches wide across one of the many gaps of the valley. There was a sheer fall of over hundred feet below Estel, and no other branches below him. And even where Legolas now stood the distance to the ground was over eighty feet, maybe not enough to kill an Elf, but surely enough to kill a human. Not to mention that the ground at this place consisted mostly of hard rocks and little undergrowth.  
  
No matter. If they just --  
  
\-- at this precise moment, the branch the young man clutched suddenly broke and Estel cried out. Unfortunately, this sudden new fall took Legolas completely by surprise. His quick reflexes were half a heartbeat too slow, and the sudden jerk when Estel reached the end of the rope and his weight tearing at Legolas' waist ripped the Elf off the branch where he was standing. He tried to grab for it but missed.  
  
For a moment, they both were airborne. Under them were few other branches, and most were too far away. There were none below Estel, nothing to break the fall. For a moment, Legolas was sure that his failure to grab the branch had killed them both. He did not think of himself, nor of the consequences for his people. His only thought was of Estel.  
  
**Estel! Estel would die!** Legolas knew only one thing: he could not let that happen!  
  
Legolas managed to grab a branch about six feet below, but this branch was too weak to hold them both. Desperate, Legolas used his whole strength to propel himself away from the weak branch and towards another, lower one which was further away. He feared the distance was too great. They would not make it --  
  
\-- then, suddenly, his hands found secure hold and he clutched the thick branch with all his strength. The jerk when his companion's fall was stopped by the rope nearly made him lose his hold again, but he clutched on with all his strength, and he prevailed. Then, he found himself dangling off the branch, hurting badly and breathing with difficulty, holding on for all he was worth. Estel, twenty feet lower, was silent and did not seem to move. Legolas feared the worst. But he could not give in, now. He felt the reassuring voice of the tree he clutched, and gratefully accepted its strength and support.  
  
Carefully and with great effort, he managed to haul his feet up and hook them around the branch. Then, after a moment, he finally managed to get up on it. He gave himself a few moments to regain his strength. Only then, he began to haul his unmoving companion up to himself again.   
  
________________________ o ________________  
  
  
Fortunately, Estel had not broken anything; the jerk when his fall was stopped had just numbed him and made him lose consciousness for a moment. When he came to, he allowed Legolas to haul him up. Then, when they both securely sat on the branch, he clutched his Elven companion as if he never wanted to let go again. White-faced, eyes displaying his shock, it took him a few moments until he could speak. At Legolas' concerned questions if he was hurt or injured he only shook his head. When he finally found his voice again, he said with awe and wonder: "You saved my life!"  
  
Legolas nodded tiredly. "The tree did," he said. "I could not have reached the branch without its help. I swear it shoved the branch within my reach."  
  
He looked down. "It knows me well. I could not bear it if you died or were injured."  
  
Suddenly, he found warm lips closing over his own and a soft, warm tongue teasing his mouth. In sheer surprise, before he knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth as he was trained to do by his twin masters – and tasted sweetness. The teasing tongue slipped inside and started to explore his mouth, and for a moment, Legolas felt himself melt at the sweetness of Estel's breath, and his whole body tingled at the touch.  
  
Then his mind regained control, his eyes flew open and he forced himself to withdraw.  
  
He saw Estel's face, flushed, eyes gleaming in love and adoration.   
  
"I knew that you would save us," the young man said. "I wasn't scared, not even when I fell, because I knew that you would find a way to save us. You always do!" He raised a hand and touched Legolas' face, tracing it in wonder.  
  
"I always knew you loved me!"  
  
Legolas felt his own body react to the touch even while his consciousness sent icy warnings through his mind. He drew back as if burned and tried to bring himself under control again.   
  
Estel was **seventeen!** True, he was a human, and they matured faster than Elves, but he was still far away from his majority. Legolas had no idea when a human would be considered to be old enough to explore physical pleasure – it was hardly a thing he could discuss with Estel's mother Gilraen, who was, after all, the only other human available here in Rivendell. Yet an Elf at seventeen would still be just a boy. And while Estel was far from being still a boy, he was hardly a full grown man yet, either. He could hardly know what he was doing!   
  
**This was wrong! They could not do this!**  
  
Besides, Legolas had been taken by his masters only days ago. He could not be in need again already. So why then did his body react with arousal at the young man's touch, why did he feel desire?  
  
Why did he feel a cloud of butterflies fluttering in his stomach and everything within him wished to just return the kiss and never let go again?  
  
**What was happening to him?!**  
  
Estel started to notice his confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked bewildered.   
  
Legolas felt his heart sink at the young man's look. There was so much love, so much trust shining back at him!   
  
Bracing himself against the disappointment he knew he would cause, he said regretfully:  
  
"Estel, we cannot do this!"  
  
For a moment, the young man looked at him without comprehension. "Why?" he asked innocently and bemused. He tried to touch Legolas again, but the Elf avoided his hand and shook his head.  
  
Estel's face fell. "But- I thought-" the young man stammered, "I thought you loved me!"  
  
Legolas had to swallow hard at his look. His heart hurt in his chest. The young man's disappointment together with his own confusion and conflicting emotions, tore at his soul and the butterflies swarming in his stomach spread.   
  
"Of course I do!" he said, then forced himself to say: "But – not like that!"  
  
Unfortunately, he was not too sure about this claim himself. Yet Estel was. His eyes still showed bewilderment, but now they held growing hurt.   
  
"But-" he protested in a small voice.  
  
Legolas struggled for a way to lessen the blow and ease the young man's pain.  
  
"Estel," he began, then asked: "I thought you were in love with that cooking maid of Elrond's household! What was her name, Lothluin(1)? The one to whom you sent all those verses and letters you wrote these last few months and had me review beforehand?"  
  
Estel scowled.   
  
"She's stupid and vain and just full of herself, and she's not worth my attention!" he said. "I do not love her! In fact, I cannot understand anymore why I ever fell for her at all!"  
  
His voice was bitter and betrayed his hurt. Legolas was shocked at his pain. He did not know precisely what the Noldor elleth had done or said to the lovesick young man, because for once Estel had not confided in him, but obviously, it had not been pretty.  
  
Still, he had to admit to himself, he was not sorry it was over. He had never liked that stupid She-Elf and thought that Estel wasted his affection and deserved better.   
  
And yet...  
  
"And what about that servant girl of your mother, Moriel, whom you adored so long?" he asked helplessly. Moriel had been Estel's first big crush – the center of the attention of a sixteen-years-old boy who brought her flowers and adored her from afar, and tormented Legolas as well as everybody else in reach with endless praise about her grace and beauty, which unfortunately nobody beside himself could see.   
  
Not to mention that the maiden could hardly be called one of the brightest Elves ever to walk Ennor(2), either.  
  
Estel rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me!" he groaned. But then he shook his head and looked at Legolas again. Very seriously, he said: "Anyway, that's over. I do not love them, Legolas! I love **you!** "  
  
Legolas felt his face crumble.   
  
He felt as if he would drown in his conflicting feelings: joy and elation at Estel's confession warring with shock and disbelief and with the pain at the necessary rejection he must give and at the hurt he was about to cause. He felt himself torn in different directions. With effort, he tried to compose himself. He needed to be strong.  
  
They could not do this.  
  
"Estel," he said unhappily and regretfully, "we can't!"  
  
Estel stared back at him without comprehension.  
  
"Why not?" he asked. "I thought..."  
  
Legolas took a deep breath. He scrambled for a reason that would not hurt Estel's feelings.  
  
"I belong to your brothers," he began, "I'm their slave, remember? I'm not supposed to share myself with anybody else. They could have me killed for this."  
  
It was the wrong thing to say. It was perfectly true, of course, but they both knew that it was not the real reason. For one thing, Elrohir and Elladan would not react this way, at least not where their brother was concerned. And secondly, Legolas had taken greater risks before in all the hare-brained schemes Estel had talked him into. As a rule, he could not deny Estel anything, and the young man knew that very well.  
  
Estel looked at him incredulously. He scowled.   
  
"You mean to say," he said, "that you would deny me even a simple kiss just because of **that?** "   
  
There was still mostly disbelief in his eyes, but it was changing fast into an expression of hurt and betrayal.   
  
"Oh, **please!** " he said, "They probably **expect** that we have done that much. They hardly will believe all we did in all that time when we have been together these last months was holding hands!"  
  
Legolas did not know what to say at his accusing tone. Estel's voice held venom. He knew he had hurt the young man very deeply, and was at a loss what he could say to lessen the blow.   
  
Helplessly, he replied: "You are too young..."  
  
The expression in the Young One's eyes changed. Anger flared up, and something dark Legolas could not identify.   
  
"Oh, yes, I see!" Estel spat. "Now we come to the **real** reason, do we not? I am just too young! Not to be taken seriously! Just a young, lovesick bastard making a fool out of himself with his bad poetry and his confessions!" There were tears brimming in his eyes, but the young man did not let them flow. He was burning with anger. "Wasn't that what you thought when you listened to all my verses?"  
  
Legolas took a sharp breath. "I never said-"  
  
But Estel did not listen anymore. Hurt and betrayal dominated in his face. Angrily, he spat:  
  
"I thought you loved me! But I am not fit for your attentions, am I? I am too young for you, and I'm just human!"  
  
Shocked to his core, Legolas stammered: "Estel--"  
  
The young man was too fast for him. Angrily, he jumped up.  
  
"You're such a hypocrite!" he spat with venom. "If I were to ask my brothers for a share of you and they commanded you to lie with me, you would do it without complaint. Because that is your duty, is it not, obedient little pleasure-slave that you are! But if I come to you myself, I am not even worth a simple kiss!"   
  
He trembled in betrayal and in rage.   
  
"How could I ever think I loved you!?"  
  
Legolas felt frozen.  
  
"Estel," he whispered helplessly, fighting for his voice, not believing what he had just heard, "please..."  
  
But Estel had had enough.   
  
"Don't bother," he spat venomously, "I will not bore you with my confessions anymore! Instead I'll simply ask my brothers for a share of you and be content!"   
  
And with that, he drew his knife and cut the rope between them, and then he ran along the branch to the trunk just as they had practiced before and climbed down. In moments, he disappeared between the trees and Legolas could not see him anymore.   
  
Legolas remained where he was, frozen in horror and in pain. He felt as if his whole world had suddenly come down around him./ // _  
  
  
_____________________ o __________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Lothluin – Sindarin:_ Blue Flower (OC Name)  
  
(2) _Ennor – Sindarin:_ Arda, Middle Earth. _Moriel- Sindarin:_ Dark Daughter (OC Name)


	33. Past And Present, IV: Falling In Love, II

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Angst. And one single kiss between an seventeen-years-old Estel and an adult (Legolas). Everything else happens between adults, I promise! _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
Additional Author's Note:  
Here is the second part. It continues immediately where the last left off, that is in the middle of the flashback.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
 **XXXI. Past and Present: Falling in Love, Part II**  
  
  
 _// / Legolas didn't know how he made it back to the house that day, and he had little memory of the next few days either. His whole world consisted only of pain, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. He could recall that he ran into a concerned Glorfindel, who asked him if he and Estel had had a fight, since Estel had taken his horse and left Rivendell for a ride, looking like a storm front about to unleash. But he could not recall what he answered, just that it wasn't much.  
  
He was asked the same question later by his masters, who also threatened him with harsh punishment if he would not tell them what precisely had occurred, but he refused to tell them anything beside the fact that he and Estel had had an disagreement, and bore their punishment without any complaint. He felt as if he was about to die, and if he could have died of a broken heart, he would have done so. Unfortunately, this was not an option.  
  
To Elrohir's and Elladan's bewilderment, they didn't get more information from Estel after the young man came back from the trip he had taken with his horse the other day. Estel refused to tell them anything. He did not make good on his threat to ask them for a share of Legolas; but he refused to meet Legolas or to speak with him, either. He avoided him completely.  
  
The twins could not get either of them to explain what had happened, but they were hardly blind or stupid. It did not take them not long to guess the reason for the fight. And they reacted in their own, unique way.  
  
They took Estel with them to an Orc-hunt. And to Legolas' complete bewilderment, this time they commanded **him** to accompany them, too. They even provided him with a weapon, although it wasn't a bow and arrows, but just a large hunting knife.  
  
They told Legolas that he had proved himself loyal during all that time he had spent alone with Estel – especially that one time three years ago when he had saved Estel from an angry she-bear who felt he threatened her child - and that it was time they took him along on their Quests by now. They would expect him to do his best to protect Estel on this trip as well. They also reminded Legolas that if he failed in this duty in any way, and if Estel got hurt, not only he but also the other hostages would pay for it.  
  
When Legolas hesitantly confessed that he doubted Estel would be fond of having him near right now, Elladan shrugged and asked him what difference he thought that made? Legolas stared at him, met his amused and knowing eyes, and had to admit it made none.  
  
For in truth, he later admitted to himself, he would die and allow himself to be torn apart before he allowed anything to happen to Estel, anyway.  
  
_________________ o ____________________  
  
  
The first few days of the trip proved awkward. It was early Echuir(1), the time of stirring after winter, and though in Rivendell, the protected valley, there was no such thing as a hard winter, outside it was still rather cold. On the other hand, there was no snow, but the melting frost made the ground muddy and the brooks and rivers strong and fast. Under the circumstances, travelling was an uncomfortable thing to do even on horses.  
  
Even more awkward though was the uncomfortable silence between Legolas and Estel.  
  
Estel had made a face when he learned that Legolas would accompany them on this trip. Yet his brothers had been unmoved. They had simply told him that they thought it was time they put their slave to further uses according to his abilities, and unlike Estel he had already gathered experience in fighting Orcs in the past, after all. Besides, in all the time of his close association with Estel, Legolas had proven himself loyal enough; it was time to reward that loyalty with trust. Did Estel have any objections?  
  
The young man was silent after that, and he kept silent during the following days. He did his best to avoid Legolas, but he did not treat him with scorn or derision, either. He just chose a place as far away from the slave as he could, and even that pained Legolas enough. He bowed his head and wished that he could turn invisible, or better, disappear. Unfortunately, he couldn't, so he kept his head down, concentrated on his horse and tried as best as he could to bear the fact that Estel ignored him. Sometimes, when he could not bear it any longer, he stole a look in the young man's direction. Most of the times he did that, he found Estel quickly looking away and blushing deeply.  
  
A few times, Estel approached the slave hesitantly after the company made camp, or he appeared suddenly in his way when Legolas was performing one task or another, like gathering wood or fetching water. But always on these occasions, Estel simply stood there, searching for his voice, then turned and fled. He never said a word. And afterwards he would avoid the slave again and try to ignore that he was there.  
  
Legolas did not know what he should think of this. If he only had known how, he would probably have tried to approach Estel and apologize, but he didn't know what he should say or what precisely he should ask forgiveness for, and he had no idea how to do it without the scene becoming the center of attention of all the camp. And of course, his masters, Estel's brothers, would then learn of everything that had happened between them. And what if Estel would not accept his apology and still reject him? Or demand that he should serve his pleasure, but then still throw him away? He knew he could not bear this. So he kept silent.  
  
After a few days of this awkward dance, however, he found that Estel returned to his side. The young human still didn't speak to him, but he also did not avoid him anymore - at least not physically. Estel chose to ride close to him and even wordlessly handed him his water skin once or twice, when Legolas was thirsty but did not dare to ask his masters for a drink. But Estel knew him well and obviously noticed his thirst even without any word or gesture.  
  
Legolas was grateful, yet he wished his beloved friend would speak to him again, too.  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
It took two weeks of travelling until they finally met the enemy.  
  
Legolas felt the familiar shadow growing in his mind for hours. At first, he did not pay much attention to the feeling; with everything that had happened to him since he had last been free he had nearly lost the ability to understand the warning, for he had learned the hard way that its absence did not necessarily meant the absence of danger. There were other creatures in this world that were nearly as bad as Orcs, although they did not look like them and spoke Elvish. But finally, when the company reached the entrance of a valley between steep hills, he could feel it, as clearly and precisely as he had always done at home in Mirkwood: the trees were screaming out to him and the very earth groaned under the presence of the Orcs defiling it. And if he was not completely wrong, there were wargs as well.  
  
He looked around sharply, trying to find out where, precisely, the enemy was hiding, and pondered if he should give a warning to the company; but he didn't know how to say what he knew without giving away too much of his people's abilities, and he did not care to earn a laugh from the arrogant Noldor warriors around him. Still he could not help placing his hand on the handle of his weapon and nudging his horse closer to Estel's.  
  
His actions had not gone unnoticed. Suddenly, he heard Estel's soft voice beside him, whispering: "What's wrong?"  
It was the first time that Estel spoke to him at all in three long weeks. Completely surprised he turned around and met his human companion's worried gaze. There was no sneer and no anger in those eyes, just concern. After a moment, Estel added: "You are sensing something, are you not?"  
  
It was too much. After all the hurt and pain, all Legolas could do in this moment was a simple nod. But then he could no longer stand Estel's gaze and quickly turned away.  
  
But he did not need to say more, because in the next moment, Estel closed the short distance between himself and Elladan and whispered to him: "Legolas sensed something. He can feel the presence of the enemy; he told me of this ability of his. And he can sense the warnings of the trees."  
  
Legolas whirled around to him and stared at him with disbelief. It was true, he had told Estel about that when he tried to teach him to understand the trees. Yet it was the first time that Estel had disclosed anything to his brothers that Legolas had confided to him of his home; or at least it was the first time since Estel had been old enough to understand why Legolas would want to keep these things secret. Although, in this special case, Legolas had to admit, Estel probably was right; after all, the safety of their whole company might depend on an early warning before a possible attack.  
  
But he could not ponder for long if under the circumstances Estel's small betrayal was acceptable or not, because Elladan turned around to him and raised a brow. "Is that true?" he asked. "Do you feel them close?"  
  
Legolas merely nodded.  
  
Elladan exchanged a look with his twin, then he turned back to their slave and asked: "And where, do you think, they are hiding?"  
  
Legolas blushed, yet he refused to be cowed. He looked searchingly around. Then he had it. There was a copse of dark, forbidding trees at one side of the valley. He could hear the trees screaming out to him across the distance.  
  
"They hide **there,** " he said with sureness, looking into the direction of the copse. "There may be more of them at the end of the valley and over there between those cliffs, but the trees on that hill groan under their foul presence!"  
  
Some Noldor guards around him started to laugh. But Elladan just raised a brow and looked back at his twin. Elrohir wore a similar expression. The second twin simply shrugged and drew his sword a bit out of its sheath. There was a gleam of blue.  
  
Elrohir cocked his head and placed a calculating, yet approving gaze on the Mirkwood slave. "Not bad, little Pet," he said. "Apparently there are a lot of things you may yet show us. You are nearly as useful for a warning against Orcs as an enchanted blade."  
  
The Noldor guards stopped their laughter, startled at their leader's approving reaction to the slave. Elladan nodded thoughtfully. "And the places you mentioned are precisely where I would have said they waited," he added. "Well done, indeed!"  
  
He narrowed his eyes. "You stay close to Estel. You are responsible for him. Whatever happens, if he is killed or just injured, your people pay for it. You understand?"  
  
Legolas simply nodded, while beside him Estel protested angrily that he was old enough to fight without a baby sitter taking care of him.  
  
Elladan turned his head around to him and snarled: "Be silent! This is your first contact with the enemy, so you will do precisely as I say! You stay back here and only fight if you are attacked first. Is that clear?!"  
  
Startled by his tone, Estel nodded. Meanwhile, Elrohir was already giving commands to the warriors of the company when to attack, and in which order. It was obvious that both twins had centuries of experience at this.  
  
In the next moment, the battle started. The Elves sent a small vanguard into the valley to draw the Orcs out, and as soon as the attack came, the battle was joined by their main force. Staying back as he had been commanded, Estel suddenly drew his hunting knife and handed it to Legolas.  
  
Legolas stared uncomprehending back at him.  
  
"Take it," Estel said, "You need it more than I. I know you are ambidextrous, and I am better with the sword."  
  
Legolas accepted the knife gratefully. But he had not even time to thank Estel, because suddenly they heard loud clamor to their side and turned around, and frozen in horror Legolas saw a company of warg-riders racing down at them.  
  
He had no bow, and there were just a few Noldor guards remaining with them, placed there by the twins to ensure the safety of their little brother. The Noldor shot as many wargs as they could, but only too soon the attackers were too close for the bow, and they drew their swords. Legolas caught a glimpse at the white, but determined face of Estel, then the wargs were there. Keeping himself between the attackers and his charge, Legolas made his horse rise and attack one of the wargs with its hooves while he himself lunged for the riding Orc. Both he and his horse made their kill. But then Legolas heard a cry behind him and saw a movement, and when he whirled around he just saw Estel going down under an attacking warg which snapped at him although the young man had already impaled it with his sword. There was no Orc. Apparently, the rider of the beast had been killed already.  
  
Unfortunately, Estel did not yet know where best to hit. His sword had only grazed the shoulder and had not hit the creature fatally. And these beasts were hard to kill even in the best of cases.  
  
Legolas did not hesitate. He jumped the beast and buried his knife in its neck before it could do the human any harm. Then he helped Estel up, asking breathlessly: "Are you hurt?"  
  
The young man simply shook his head. In the next moment, they were fighting back to back and Legolas lost all sense of time.  
  
The battle seemed to last for hours, although it probably took only minutes. At one point, Legolas suddenly felt his back uncovered and turned. He saw Estel attacked by three Orcs at once, fighting for his life, too proud to cry for help. Even as he watched, the young man killed one Orc, but when Estel danced back to avoid the sword lunge of another, he stumbled and fell over one of the dead enemies at their feet. Falling, he managed to defeat the lunge of the third Orc, but doing this, his sword was caught and he lost it. Wide eyed, the young man stared at the second Orc, now standing over him triumphantly and raising his sword for the death stroke.  
  
There was a cry, and suddenly the Orc above him sported a long knife in its throat. In the next instant, a whirlwind of a furious blonde Elf stood above the young human warrior, moving in a dance of deadly grace against all comers. Legolas killed one Orc, and in the same graceful turn slit he throat of another while his other knife buried itself deeply in the mouth of an attacking warg, piercing the brain. The blonde Elf ducked out of the way of an ugly black arrow. Coming up again, he killed another Orc, then whirled around and threw the knife into the back of a third who struggled with one of the other Elves. He turned around to look for other attackers, but there were none. As suddenly as it had started, the battle was over. They had won.  
  
There were hoof beats. Suddenly, Elladan appeared beside them again. He raised his sword. "What has happened to Estel?" he growled threateningly, his face wearing a furious expression.  
  
"I'm fine!" Estel's voice reached his ears, "I'm uninjured!" Hurriedly, Estel scrambled out from under Legolas and stood up. "I'm not hurt! I'm all right!"  
  
Elladan let his sword sink. Estel looked at Legolas, wide-eyed and a little shocked at Elladan's display, but still very excited.  
  
"You saved my life again," he said breathlessly. "They way you fight, you move... you are incredible!"  
  
He trailed off, becoming aware that they had an audience. Still, his face shone with excitement, as if nothing had ever changed, nothing had happened, as if the last three weeks had never been.  
  
Legolas just looked at him, eyes full of hurt.  
  
"I had to," he simply said. "I am responsible for you, remember?"  
  
He saw Estel's face crumble and his eyes widen with hurt, and he couldn't stand it. He turned around, looking for the knife he had thrown after that last Orc. Turning to get it, he noticed Elrohir, standing close by, watching them with a raised brow and a speculative expression in his eyes.  
  
______________________ o ___________________  
  
  
This evening, Elrohir and Elladan both shared their bedding with their slave. They did not play long games, just took their pleasure and fed the spell. Afterwards, they send him off to sleep on his own. The other warriors, especially the guards, looked politely away when their lords took what was their right, yet they were not above giving the slave leering glances and catcalls when he went to his own bedding later.  
  
Yet Estel was another matter. Briefly, Legolas met his gaze when he settled down at the place he had chosen to rest, and there was hurt and longing in the young man's eyes.  
  
Legolas quickly looked away and buried himself under his blanket.  
  
During the following days, Estel avoided meeting Legolas' gaze again. He looked away and blushed whenever Legolas looked in his direction. Then, one evening, Elrohir and Elladan chose to make camp early. They chose a well protected place on a hillside with a small meadow surrounded by trees. They called their slave to them and told him to prepare a place on one side of the meadow, between a few bushes, spread out a blanket, place some torches around it and start a fire. Then they told him to undress and kneel himself on the blanket, awaiting their pleasure.  
  
Legolas obeyed. He shivered. It was cold, but even more he feared what new cruel game his masters had thought up for him. His fears mounted when Elrohir and Elladan called Estel.  
  
The young man approached, and Legolas could see his face, white with apprehension. Elrohir stepped up and stood beside the kneeling slave, petting his head. Legolas shivered under his touch. He wished that he could die this very moment.  
  
"Do you remember what date it is today?" Elrohir asked his human brother.  
  
Estel mutely shook his head. Elladan, standing beside the blanket, smiled.  
  
"It s the first of March! Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday? You are eighteen years old, now!" he said teasingly.  
  
Estel stared at him, clearly startled. Obviously, he had been so preoccupied these last few days that he really forgot the date completely. The grin of his brother widened.  
  
"And even more, you have just fought your first battle recently and proven yourself as a worthy warrior. You are a man now, even if your true majority is yet to come."  
  
Elrohir's cool voice added: "Therefore we think that it is time we gave you a special gift. We have seen how longingly you look at our slave. We decided to let you have a taste of him. You are certainly old enough for it!"  
  
Legolas' head shot up, and he stared at the young human, frozen in terror. Estel looked startled. He met Legolas' gaze and shook his head nearly imperceptibly. "No," he mouthed, "I didn't... never... No!"  
  
Elrohir's voice hit them. "You do not want to taste him?" he asked coolly. "From the looks you sent him and us the other day, we thought you did."  
  
Estel took a step closer, as if he was drawn against his will, as if he was pulled on strings. He stopped again, hesitating.  
  
"Come now," Elladan said from his side with a note of impatience, "do you want to be a man or not?It would be impolite to decline the invitation!"  
  
Elrohir added: "The way you always look at him like a man dying of thirst at his only well, it's pretty obvious you want him! Have a taste!"  
  
Legolas bit his lips, then blushed and bowed his head again. Big tears formed in his eyes, wetting his cheeks, and he shivered harder.  
  
He could hear Estel coming closer, step by step, as if he was pulled against his will. Then the young man knelt beside him, carefully reaching out, touching his skin. Legolas could hear Estel's hard breathing, could hear him fighting for his voice.  
  
Estel's hand was cold, his touch was hesitant.  
  
"Legolas," he whispered rawly, then he lost his voice. Slowly, his hands wandered up, touched Legolas' face and turned it up. Legolas briefly saw Estel's white face, frozen in horror, with terror in his eyes, and knew he had not planned this. It was just a cruel joke of Estel's brothers.  
  
Then Legolas could not longer stand it and closed his eyes. He felt hesitant lips touching his own, and opened his mouth as was his duty. The lips on his own opened as well, and there was warmth and softness, but there was none of the tingling and arousal he had felt during their first, hesitant kiss in that tree in Rivendell.  
  
He was frozen in horror.  
  
Estel's lips touched him, left him, then he heard a sob, and suddenly the young man jumped up and fled, with a half-sobbed: "I can't!" thrown over his shoulder. Legolas eyes flew open and he saw his retreating figure, running to the trees.  
  
Elrohir and Elladan laughed, and all the surrounding Noldor guards joined in.  
  
Legolas bowed his head to hide his face, feeling as if he had been hit in the stomach. He was relieved when Elrohir let go of him and coolly commanded him to dress again.  
  
He obeyed, and when he got permission to leave, he followed Estel's example and fled.  
  
Several hours later, sitting in the tree where he had sought and found shelter for the night, he was finally approached by Estel.  
  
"Legolas," the young man said, touching his arm, "I **swear** to you, I did not ask them for this! I never approached them, I never asked them for a share of you! I **swear** I didn't!!!" His voice was barely distinguishable from a sob. "It wasn't my idea! I didn't want this!"  
  
Legolas finally looked up and met eyes full of pain.  
  
"I swear to you, I didn't ask them! Please, you must believe me!" Estel begged.  
  
Legolas searched his eyes and found he told the truth. Still he could not help the hurt welling up in him. Bitterly he asked: "Even so, why did you flee? Wasn't that what you wanted?"  
  
Estel shook his head in horror. "Never!" he exclaimed, "Not like this! I never wanted you like this! Unwilling, forced – I never..."  
  
He swallowed hard, tears brimming in his eyes. "Don't you see? **I love you!** All I ever wanted was for you to love me back! I want to have you willingly! Not like this..." He shivered.  
  
Hesitantly, Legolas' hands came up and touched him, too.  
  
"But you said..."  
  
Estel shook his head. "I was hurt and dense and stupid, and I could only hear that you rejected me. Just like... **Oh, Valar!** How dense I've been! I- I apologize. I didn't mean it! Never!!!"  
  
He swallowed hard, then begged intently: "Please believe me!"  
  
Legolas looked at him and slowly he allowed his hurt and anger to melt away. Carefully, he drew the young man close and enfolded him in his arms. "You truly love me?"  
  
He could feel Estel nod.  
  
"I do," the young man said, "I swear I do. I want you, Legolas. But not like this. I want you only if you want me, too!"  
  
Legolas could feel him shiver in his arms and allowed his own hands to roam and pet his back. Suddenly, he was flooded with warmth. The tingle was back.  
  
Estel loved him!  
  
 **Estel truly loved him!**  
  
And he had declined to have him by force or on command. He could have taken simply what he wanted, but he loved Legolas too much for that. Instead, he even risked the mockery and scorn of the other warriors and of his brothers.  
  
"I love you, too," Legolas said, and it was the truth, a truth he could feel in his heart and soul and in his entire body. "I want you, too. I never meant to mock you! I just--"  
  
Estel kissed him again.  
  
The soft lips on his own filled him with warmth. The tingling took hold of his whole body, filled his stomach, reached his groin.  
  
His eyes flew open. **"Estel!--"**  
  
Estel withdrew a bit. "Shhh!" he said, "It's all right! I am not too young anymore! You heard my brothers! I am a warrior now!"  
  
Legolas shuddered. "Your brothers..." he began, but Estel shook his head.  
  
"They practically invited me. Even if they didn't say it explicitly, they gave their permission. And I fought my first battle the other day. I am a man now!"  
  
He traced his partner's face. Legolas could see his eyes, warm and pleading. "Please! Will you allow me to kiss you again?"  
  
Desire rose in him, and it was new and unexpected, full of warmth and the wish to give instead of the hateful, tainted **need** or the unwilling arousal he was used to, when his masters took their pleasure and he felt himself betrayed by his own body. This was different. His heart sang, and warmth filled him.  
  
He could not bring himself to resist any more. He nodded.  
  
The next kiss felt like finally, wonderfully coming home at last.  
  
They made love for the first time under that tree, in the privacy of some bushes, on Legolas' blanket, covered by Estel's cloak, and it was pure joy, a giving and taking equally pleasurable for them both. In many ways, it was the first time for them both: to Estel, because he never had lain with someone before, and for Legolas, because always before for him the sharing of his body had been an act of rape and violation. Even with Glorfindel, who was careful and gentle enough, always the fact remained that their sharing was done not out of love, but just to feed the spell, an act of painful, brutal necessity.  
  
But **this** was love, and it was pure, unblemished joy.  
  
The first time was a little awkward for Estel, because he was shy and not sure what he was supposed to do, although he had seen couplings before and he had for some time during his adolescence pestered Legolas (and his brothers) with a lot of curious questions.  
  
But Legolas was patient and guided him. For once his forced experience proved to be an asset. When they slept close to each other afterwards, it was the first peaceful sleep for both of them in weeks.  
  
From that day on, they made love or just shared tenderness whenever they could steal away to do it, and later, after the Orc-hunt, back in Rivendell, whenever they could spent unobserved time together. The twins looked the other way and never said a word. They still demanded that Legolas served them, but they left him a lot of time to spend with Estel, too. And they thenceforth regularly took both Estel and Legolas with them on their Orc-hunts, and even provided Legolas with a bow, after they made him swear he would never use it against them or other Elves, but just against the creatures of the Shadow or to hunt game. Their warriors respected their leaders' example and never said a word to anybody, either.  
  
The only shadow on their love was a warning from Glorfindel. A few days after the whole company was back in Rivendell, the Noldor Lord took Estel and Legolas aside to talk to them in privacy.  
  
"I'm happy for you both," he said, "but I have to warn you to be discreet. Elladan and Elrohir might tolerate what you do – never think they do not know about it! - but Lord Elrond would be another matter. He hates you, Greenleaf! He will not tolerate that you have 'ensnared' Estel like this, as he would see it. It will be better if you two avoid bringing your love to his attention. And there are others here who may be jealous and envy your joy. So be careful!"  
  
Legolas and Estel both looked at him, wide-eyed. When under observation, they were as discreet as they could; they never touched each other in public and tried to hide the change in their relationship as best as they could.  
"How do you know--?" Legolas finally asked.  
  
Glorfindel saw their stunned looks and laughed. "What do you think, Greenleaf?" he asked. "One long week you look as if your world just ended, and Estel looks the same, and he doesn't speak to you. Then you both take a hunting trip against the Orcs together, and when you return you are inseparable again and both of you look radiant! Whenever you look at each other, you resemble Beren and Luthien, or maybe Idril and Tuor. How indeed could **anyone** get the idea you were in love?"  
  
He laughed heartily at their blush, then he grew serious again. "You need to be more careful! Heed my warning! Legolas has powerful enemies here!"  
  
A bit dampened in their joy, they promised it and thenceforth checked their behavior in public more carefully. Legolas did his best to play the humble slave and obedient, silent shadow of Estel, when there were hostile eyes to see, and Estel got practice in acting the master. But even that could hardly diminish their joy. Legolas would have been content to remain like this with Estel for all his life.  
  
For a year and a half, Legolas was completely happy.  
  
Then Glorfindel's warning came back to haunt them. / //_  
  
  
__________________ o ____________________  
  
  
Legolas woke with a start. Pale and trembling, he rose to sit and huddled himself together, grasping his knees. He sent a quick look to his side, to the Man of Gondor, but Boromir was sleeping peacefully and had not woken at his sudden movement. Legolas swallowed a sigh of relief. The Man of Gondor was much less alert than Aragorn!  
Carefully and silently he pulled the blanket around him and burrowed his face in his knees.  
  
He shook as he remembered his dream.  
  
 _Why!? Why now? This used to be one of his favorite memories, one of those he tried to recall and linger on when he sought Elven dreams. But right now, it only reminded him of everything he had lost._  
  
Silently, he raised his head and looked longingly over to the other side of the camp, to the sleeping form of his master. _If Estel would mind if he tried to snuggle up to him tonight?_  
  
Then he discarded the thought. He still reeked of sex, and of the touch of Boromir. And although Aragorn himself had commanded his slave to lie with Boromir, it would hardly improve his mood if he had to taste another man's scent on Legolas' body! How could Legolas approach Estel like this? And even if Aragorn would not mind – it would surely offend Boromir! The Gondorian's reaction earlier this night had been proof of that.  
  
Miserably and longing for his master, Legolas rose and went to find a place where he could wash himself as best as he could with only the contents of his water skin.  
  
  
_________________ o ________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Echuir – Sindarin: 'Stirring'_ , one of the six Elven seasons of the year, the period between _Rhiw_ (winter) and _Ethuil_ (spring). The other three seasons are: _Laer_ (summer), _Iavas_ (early autumn) and _Firith_ (fading), also called _Narbeleth_ (Leaf-Fall, late autumn). _Echuir_ is the time between the 1th of February and the 26th of March in our modern calendar. So, the company started the trip in the first week of February.


	34. Respite

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : Sex. And Elf on top! At least briefly. :-) _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
 **XXXII. Respite**  
  
  
Aragorn trudged on, his face grim and forbidding. He was all too aware that his dark mood was palpable and surrounded him like a dark, stormy cloud. Once in a while he cast sullen glances into the direction of his slave, often briefly meeting Legolas' gaze; but always, the slave quickly looked away. He seemed subdued and miserable.  
It would have melted Aragorn's heart and triggered his concern if not for the images replaying before his eyes, filling his mind whenever he allowed it to wander.  
  
 _The face of the Elf raised in abandon, relaxed in passion and pleasure; gasping at the thrusts of another into his pliant body... finding release in complete ecstasy... Boromir's harsh breathing mingling with the Elf's as he thrust into the willing body..._  
  
He shook his head again, trying to banish the images, but they remained. and it did not improve his mood that he himself was responsible for this mess and had completely brought it on himself.  
  
Legolas avoided him. His slave took care to be as far from him as he could manage, mostly sticking to himself or chatting with the Hobbits, sometimes scouting ahead, but always avoiding Aragorn and Boromir. Boromir was not too happy about this, Aragorn could see; the Man of Gondor had earlier that day tried to share some intimacy with the Elf, some tender caress, but Legolas had sidestepped him skilfully and fled. He had then hesitantly approached his master, only to shy away when he picked up on Aragorn's foul mood, and had avoided him ever since. Boromir's looks had turned from hurt to anger to annoyance. Now, the Gondorian simply left the Elf in peace, apparently satisfied by the fact that Legolas at least avoided Aragorn as well.  
  
The Hobbits, sensing the Elf's disturbed mood, shot both men dark looks and tried their best to form a protective bulwark around the slave when he was with the Fellowship. And while Aragorn often felt Legolas' look on him, the slave carefully avoided meeting his eyes and looked away whenever Aragorn looked into his direction.  
  
Of course, Aragorn could have easily put a stop to this by simply _commanding_ his slave to stay close. But he hesitated. In the back of his mind, he knew all too well that Legolas avoided him because of his master's obvious black mood, and he had to admit that at the moment his slave was wise to do so.  
  
For if Legolas came close to him and he had to smell the scent of Boromir on him again, he did not knew what he would do.  
  
Aragorn chided himself. It was stupid of him to be jealous; after all, _he himself_ had commanded the Elf into the other man's bedding. Legolas had not wanted to go, had begged him to revoke his command; but he had insisted, and his most loyal slave had reluctantly but obediently followed his command against his own preferences. It was not Legolas' fault that, true to his master's explicit encouragement, he had then found it in himself to enjoy the sharing.  
  
And yet. There it was. Aragorn could not banish the image of Legolas in Boromir's arms out of his head, the pleasure and the abandon on his Elf's face as he allowed himself to find pleasure in the other man's embrace. Boromir's gentleness, so different to everything he, Aragorn, could give his partner. Legolas' expression of wonder and passion...  
  
It sat like a cold fist of anger in his stomach, urging him _to hurt, to punish, to avenge_. In the back of his mind, some dark and ugly part of himself whispered to him of all the ways to punish his wayward slave and show him exactly to whom he belonged. Thoroughly. To teach him better than to seek and find pleasure with anyone beside his master.  
  
The sane and rational part of his mind chided himself and discarded the thought.  
  
 _'And drive him even further away from you?'_ the voice of reason in his mind questioned dryly. _'Do you wish to drive him into the arms of the Gondorian **with force**? He did only what you asked him to, after all!'_ And after all, how could he punish Legolas for obeying his command?  
  
No. He was being childish. And there was a cold fear in his soul, the fear of losing the affection of his Elf for good. Even while Legolas was bound to him without escape, the unconditional faith and trust the Elf still placed in him was precious. He simply could not bear to lose that.  
  
The mere thought that Legolas could come to truly loathe him for good was too painful to contemplate. It took his breath away and sent currents of grief and sadness through his soul.  
  
He could not risk that.  
  
For a moment he was flooded with regret and grief nearly too great to bear. _They had lost so much already..._ No. He could not risk driving Legolas further apart from him.  
  
So he allowed his slave to avoid him and trudged on, fretting in silence.  
  
It was late in the afternoon when he finally had an epiphany.  
  
There was a way how he could show his Elf exactly what he meant to him, how much he truly appreciated him. A way how he could remind Legolas to whom he belonged and what they had together, without driving him further away.  
  
It was something Boromir would never do. And Legolas would even like it.  
  
And more, it would show his Elf why the command to share himself with others was a good thing. It would even serve to remind Aragorn himself of that.  
  
He would show Legolas how dear he was to him,how much he meant to him.  
  
It was perfect.  
  
Smiling to himself and in a much better mood, Aragorn went to seek out his Elf and prepare for his plans.  
  
_______________ o ______________  
  
  
Aragorn did not get his chance until the evening. Legolas had been at first a bit hesitant when his master sought him out, and the Hobbits, always protective of the Elf, had taken that slight hesitance as a call to form a wall around him and engage both Aragorn and the Elf in animated chatter. Aragorn had at first been taken aback by their ploy, but a look at Legolas' grateful face had been enough to convince him to play along. While he would have been well within his rights to simply chase Legolas' self-appointed body-guards away and ask the Elf to have a word with him, his aim was still regaining his Elf's commitment and trust. And the best way to ensure that was certainly not aggravating the Hobbits and claiming Legolas' sole attention to himself by mere command. So he patiently played along and registered with satisfaction that slowly, very slowly, Legolas seemed to relax again.  
  
When the Fellowship finally settled down to camp and the Hobbits went along to settle down and haggle about the chores, Aragorn stepped closer to his Elf and touched him. "I would have you near me for the night," he informed his slave. "I have missed you all day, Little Leaf. Stay close to me this evening."  
  
Legolas gave him a startled, apprehensive look, then Samwise called his name and asked him to fetch firewood. The Elf hesitated a moment, then he gave his master an obedient bow, mumbled a polite _"as soon as I am back, My Lord,"_ and went to fetch the firewood as he had been asked to do. Aragorn sighed and turned to seek out Gandalf and discuss their course during the following days. He could not help noticing the brief communication between his slave and the Hobbits at the other side of the camp, just out of earshot, though. He noticed their frowning and Legolas' grateful expression but gentle shake of head. He thought he could guess the content of the exchange. If he was not completely mistaken, they were offering the Elf their protection from his master again, should he need it. Apparently, Legolas declined. Aragorn was grateful for this proof of his Elf's continued loyalty, and resolved to prove to Legolas that he deserved it.  
  
Later, when the Fellowship sat around the fire, Legolas settled hesitantly down beside him. Aragorn reached out, touched his arm and guided him close. The Elf reluctantly but obediently leaned against him, and Aragorn gathered him in his arms, in nearly the same position as the evening before. He could feel Legolas' body tense up against him. Slowly and tenderly he began to pet the tense form, ignoring the pointed glares of the Hobbits and the sullen looks of Boromir.  
  
Slowly and hesitantly Legolas began to relax under his ministrations. Aragorn registered it with satisfaction. For a few, long moments, he simply luxuriated in the Elf's closeness and unique smell and feel.  
  
"I wondered what I had to do to get my hands on you, today," he whispered after some time. "You did your best to avoid me all day, Little Leaf."  
  
Legolas tensed up again. "I'm sorry, master," he stammered, obviously terrified, "I just..."  
  
Aragorn sighed and just continued to pet him gently. "Shhh, it's all right. I admit I was in a terrible mood most of today," he admitted.  
  
When Legolas didn't immediately relax against him, he soothed: "It is not your fault, Little Leaf. I was just being stupid." He kissed him gently on the head.  
  
Legolas turned in his arms and looked at him. "You – you are not-?"  
  
Aragorn met his gaze with slight grief and self-deprecating amusement. "Angry?" he asked, raising a brow. "No, not anymore. At least not at you. Jealous? Yes, I am. Terribly so. I was glowering all day. I _said_ I was being stupid, did I not?"  
  
Legolas shrank a bit, his eyes widening in fear. Yet at the same time, there was a little spark of defiance. Aragorn was absurdly pleased to see it. At least he had not yet destroyed the spirit in his Elf.  
  
"But," Legolas began, "you said..."  
  
Aragorn kissed him. "I know what I said and commanded you to do," he said then. "That's why I said I'm being stupid. Still, it's killing me to know you were in his arms, and it drives me mad that I have to share you. I still think that this thrice-cursed bargain is for the best and the right thing to do to keep you safe. But that certainly doesn't mean I'll have to like it."  
  
Legolas looked at him uncomprehendingly. "But you told me you would have me relish it, master," he protested feebly.  
  
Aragorn sighed and stroked tenderly through his hair.  
  
"I know," he said, and after a moment forced himself to add: "and to that I hold. I am not angry at you, Little Leaf, just at myself. And I promise I won't take that anger out on you."  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. He didn't doubt that this was his master's intention. Even so...  
  
Carefully, he began: "Estel..."  
  
Aragorn kissed him again. "I promise," he repeated then, holding his gaze. "Do not fear. I won't!"  
  
Legolas held his gaze for a moment, then he sighed in relief. He relaxed visibly, and his body in Aragorn's arms finally grew pliant.  
  
"Thank you," he said quietly ."I... am sorry I avoided you today, Estel."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "No matter. It was probably for the best," he admitted reluctantly. "I needed time to work through my unjustified anger."  
  
He smiled and petted Legolas' back and shoulders tenderly. "It is as well that tonight it is my turn again."  
  
To his dismay, he saw Legolas' eyes widen again in sudden fear and felt the Elf's body in his arms tense up immediately. For a moment, dark, terrible anger welled up in him and the jealous beast inside his guts screamed and growled. _'Do you miss his touch already so much that you loathe mine?'_ the beast howled, _'Do you already prefer him that much?!'_  
  
But then, rational thought set in again and he fought his jealousy down. Bitterly he reminded himself that there were very good reasons for Legolas' reluctance and fear of his master's attentions, none of which had anything to do with Boromir.  
  
 _'Well, not tonight,'_ he thought, _'tonight you are in for a pleasant surprise, melethron!'_  
  
Still, a part of him felt as if he would drown in grief, and he wanted to scream. _How had he ever brought them both to this?_  
  
He saw the renewed fear deepening in his slave's eyes and shook his head. Then he brought his mouth close to one of the delicate ears and placed a quick kiss to its tip.  
  
"Shhh, do not fear," he rasped. "I will be gentle. I promised, remember?"  
  
He felt Legolas hesitate a moment, then nod and relax again. For a moment, he was flooded with relief.  
  
Legolas still trusted him implicitly. He had not managed to destroy what was between them for good.  
  
Grateful and relieved, Aragorn kissed the ear under his lips again and promised: "Do not fear! I promise you, you will not regret it! I have something special in mind for us tonight, Little Leaf. And it is nothing you need fear, I promise!"  
  
Legolas' eyes widened a bit at Aragorn's mention of his 'special plans', and there was a quick flash of fear. It filled Aragorn with sudden grief. _Of course, **'something special'** rarely meant something good for Legolas anymore when it came to their bed-play, did it?_ But he resisted the impulse to explain and to assure, hoping desperately Legolas would trust him. Legolas looked at him questioningly, but he just smiled and refused to say more. Instead, he simply held his slave's gaze and continued his tender petting.  
  
Finally, after searching his gaze for long moments, the Elf gave up and turned in his arms again, comfortably settling against him. Aragorn luxuriated in this undeniable proof of trust and promised himself that tonight, at least, Legolas would have no reason to regret it.  
  
_________________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas leaned drowsily against his master, savouring Aragorn's slow, gentle petting. It was a peaceful moment, and he was grateful for Estel's unexpected tenderness, even more so, since after seeing Aragorn's palpable dark mood all day he had feared the worst for the night. Still, something within him hesitated to relax and lower his guard completely.  
  
Aragorn would take him later this night.  
  
True, Aragorn had promised to be gentle – at least as gentle as he could. He would try to make their joining bearable, even enjoyable for his slave. And of course, Legolas relished every moment of tenderness and concern Estel showed him like the most precious jewel, and kept it treasured in his heart.  
  
But still Legolas could not help fearing the night. He knew that Aragorn had no choice, as little as he had himself. And normally, Aragorn tried to keep the level of pain he was forced to cause him bearable. He would surely do so tonight.  
  
But Legolas did not know if he could bear Estel hurting him again tonight. Not after these recent dreams and sweet memories of their early time together. He did not know if he could take Aragorn's cruel attentions again so soon after that.  
  
So it was with much apprehension that he finally followed his master to their packs to fetch oil as well as their bedrolls and blankets, and afterwards out of the camp to find some privacy together. At least they had time; Aragorn had managed to fend off any attempt to enroll him or Legolas for watch-duty tonight, even though it meant that both of them had to take watches tomorrow. But he had been adamant, and finally, Boromir gave in, although with a very sour face. The Gondorian cast them a sullen look when they left the camp, but at least he kept to himself and allowed them privacy. So did the Hobbits. They seemed to accept Legolas' reassurance that he didn't need protection tonight and left him to his own devices.  
  
Legolas wished he could be as sure that he did not need their help as he had told them.  
  
Aragorn led him out of the camp and into the bushes. They did not go very far; Aragorn sought a place that would offer protection of their privacy and was well out of sight and immediate earshot from the camp, but would allow them to hear if the alarm was raised and get back in time if there was an attack. Finally he found a place to his content, surrounded by bushes and with soft, mossy ground, and spread out his bedroll, signaling Legolas to do the same. He placed his blanket beside their bedding and sat down, taking off his weapons and placing them in easy reach.  
  
Legolas shrugged out of his harness and placed it beside the weapons of his master, then he stood mute and waited for Aragorn's commands. He was surprised when his master smiled up at him.  
  
Aragorn settled more comfortably on his bedroll and patted the place beside him. "Come to me, Little Leaf," he invited. "Sit down beside me."  
  
Amazed and a little mystified, Legolas obeyed. He had expected a command to undress, or to kneel, not a gentle invitation. _What was Estel playing at?!_ Carefully, he settled down beside his master, kneeling before him.  
  
"Estel?" he began questioningly, "What..."  
  
Aragorn just smiled at him and placed a finger on his lips. Then he traced the features of his Elf with admiration.  
  
"Shhh! I have waited for this moment all day," he said hoarsely, "I could hardly stand to wait much longer."  
  
He raised both hands and traced Legolas' face, followed his features lovingly: the sculpted cheekbones, the elegant ears, the sensitive neck; then he moved on to comb gently through the silken hair. With delight he first saw the pupils of his Elf dilate, then the eyes fluttering closed under his touch, watched Legolas' face relax and his lips open in wonder, heard the reverent whisper of his name:  
  
 _"Estel..."_  
  
Desire surged through him. He leaned forward and graced the lips of his Elf with a tender kiss, just a sweet promise instead of a demanding taking of his lover's mouth.  
  
"You do not know how beautiful you are," he whispered. "Make love to me!"  
  
Legolas' eyes flew open. He drew back and looked at him, eyes wide in wonder. When he saw that his master was serious, his eyes widened even more.  
  
"Estel," he gasped breathlessly, "You would allow me... _truly?_ "  
  
Aragorn saw his wonder and his joy at the thought and smiled even wider. "Yes, _melethron_. I want to feel you inside me tonight," he answered. "Please, Little Leaf! I need to feel your body within mine. I want you!"  
  
He looked at his partner admiringly. "Make love to me?"  
  
For a moment, Legolas just looked at him, apparently too amazed and overwhelmed to react. Then the face of his Elf transformed in raw longing and his eyes went black with desire. So much love, so much surprise and gratitude, so much pure, unblemished joy were shining back at him. For this sight alone, Aragorn decided, this had been a wonderful idea.  
  
But still his slave seemed somehow hesitant to take him up on his offer, as if Legolas could just not believe his ears.  
  
Aragorn decided to prompt him. He tilted his head and pursed his lips in a little pout. "Do you not want me?" he asked coyly.  
  
In the next instant, he found himself flat on his back and straddled by a very determined, very aroused Elf, who took his mouth in a demanding kiss. "I _do_ want you," Legolas breathed when he let him up for air, "I do want you, Estel!"  
  
It was nearly a sob, and Legolas' eyes were bright with joy and gratitude; Aragorn had to swallow at the depth of their expression.  
  
But then Legolas ceased to speak and plunged down on his master's willing mouth again, plundering it thoroughly. Then he moved on to his neck, his ears, his shoulders... Aragorn felt somewhat overwhelmed at the concentrated assault on his body, loving and full of tenderness, but very determined. Legolas' mouth, his hands were everywhere, kissing, nipping, caressing and tickling. It was nearly frightening to find himself suddenly at the mercy of his normally so humble and submissive Elf, but at the same time, it was exciting to take the passive role for a change. And in any case, he trusted Legolas implicitly.  
  
So he gave himself over to the concentrated assault, squirming, moaning, laughing in delight, until the tender and maddening caresses suddenly stopped and he looked up at his lover a little startled.  
  
Legolas' face shone, but now it held a nearly predatory expression.  
  
"You, My Lord," he said, "have entirely too many clothes on!"  
  
Aragorn raised his brows and looked back at his slave. "Then, _melethron_ , I suggest we remedy that!" he offered.  
  
Legolas hands started immediately on his belt, then moved to open the bindings of his jerkin. Aragorn let him work, then shoved him gently back and off himself so he could sit up. "Wait, _melethron_ ," he said breathlessly, "let me undress for you!"  
  
He caught a glimpse of Legolas' look of wonder, then he was busy getting the shirt over his head, assisted by his Elf. It took them only moments; they eagerly helped each other out of their garb until they were both completely naked for each other.  
  
Then Legolas turned back to his master. Asking and receiving Aragorn's permission with his eyes, he gently and lovingly guided the _Adan_ back on his back, kissing him tenderly. With one hand, he reached for one of their blankets. He would have preferred to leave it, but it was cold, and Estel did not have the same resistance as an Elf against exposure.  
  
So he spread it over the two of them, then returned to worshiping the beloved body, now unhindered by restraining cloth.  
  
He stole another kiss, savoring the sweet, responsive mouth under his own; then he moved on to kiss the well known scar on Estel's lip, a reminder of an early fight with a particularly nasty group of humans. He moved on to map the beloved features of his master with gentle kisses. He watched the eyes fluttering closed and graced each with a gentle kiss. Then he moved on to the side of his master's head.  
  
Legolas blew into one round ear and grinned at the delighted laughter this elicited. He bit gently into the sensitive lobe.  
  
Estel gasped. His hands came up and kneaded into the Elf's back. Legolas licked along the lobe, followed the round shape with his tongue, then closed his mouth down on the captive flesh and suckled. Estel groaned. Legolas grinned. He knew that the human was not as sensitive here as an Elf, but Estel still liked this nearly as much as Legolas himself.  
  
And he was right. Estel's hands buried into Legolas' shoulders and his groin surged up against him. "Legolas!" his master growled in a mixture of amusement and helpless begging, "Please! You are killing me here!"  
  
Legolas grinned again and gave the captive lobe under his lips a last, teasing lick. Then he took pity on the human and moved down. His hands trailed southwards, following the lines of Estel's torso. They traced the ribs, the muscled chest, the flat stomach, kneading, caressing, stroking, mapping the scars along their way. There were many, and for most of them he knew exactly how and when they had been received. Each was a reminder of a failure, because they meant he had not been successful in watching Estel's back. Only a few had been gained when Legolas had not been there.  
  
Then again, all these scars also meant Estel had lived through another battle to receive them. He mapped them all: _this_ one of the warg-bite that had nearly cost them both their life, Estel's by the long, gruesome fever following the bite, and his own by default; _that_ of an ugly sword-stroke, and _this here_ stemmed from an encounter with a nasty arrow. He marveled that Estel's body was such an open map of all his valorous deeds. His own body showed little of the struggles of the past, but then the reminder of any wounds he received faded fast on him, as did any marks left by Estel's harsher games.  
  
Legolas quickly banished this last thought. He was determined to enjoy this gift and unwilling to spoil this moment by thoughts of inevitable pain and grief.  
  
Legolas' mouth moved to his master's neck, suckling and nibbling, until Estel began to moan and thrash against him. He moved on to that spot at the joint of neck and shoulders where Estel always was so sensitive, and started to nibble. His hands rubbed Estel's stomach, lingering, refusing to roam further down.  
  
Estel groaned. His hands buried harder into Legolas back and his groin surged up again, seeking contact. But he just succeeded in rubbing himself a little against the Elf's thighs, far too little friction to feed his building need.  
  
Legolas' hands finally left the human's stomach and trailed down, kneading his thighs, carefully avoiding the center of the Adan's excitement.  
  
Estel growled in frustration. "Legolas!--" he whined, "Please...." - but at least he did not command his Elf to move on.  
  
Legolas grinned again. He gave the spot he had been working a last, teasing swirl with his tongue and kissed his way along the hollow of Estel's throat down to the chest. Finding one of the nipples, he gave it his closest attention.  
  
Estel moaned when the hot mouth closed over the sensitive body part, suckling and teasing it mercilessly. He stroked his hands helplessly over the Elf's smooth back, resisting the impulse to turn the tables; he had resolved to let Legolas be on top tonight, and so he would let him have his way. But it was difficult. The Elf seemed determined to subject him to this sweet torment as thoroughly and intently as he could. Still, he could not help raising his groin again, trying to push it against the thighs of his lover, trying to get contact.... but the Elf skillfully avoided him. He seemed intent on torturing him with frustration.  
  
Then Legolas graced the nipple he was suckling lightly with his teeth and Estel yelped. He groaned again when the offended body part was soothed again by a swirling tongue.  
  
"Legolas," he whined, _"melethron, please..."_  
  
His whining was rewarded when the teasing mouth moved to his other tit and Legolas hands finally, mercifully, found their way to his manhood.  
  
At Aragorn's pleas, Legolas looked up at him, grinning, delighting in his human's expression of desire and need. It was a pity that he was so rarely allowed to worship Estel's body like this any more. Most of the times, his master preferred him on the receiving end, submissive and passive, waiting obediently for whatever he would receive.... that Estel would grant him this, and now, was an unbelievable gift he could not relish enough! His hands moved down and closed over his human's maleness, to give him finally a part of what he craved --  
  
\-- and found it still soft and hardly risen. Despite his obvious arousal, Estel had barely stirred for him!  
  
While he himself was already so hard he ached.  
  
He frowned and looked alarmed up at his master's face. He met Aragorn's eyes, black with passion.  
  
Aragorn's hands stroked over his hair.  
  
"Don't mind that," the _Adan_ groaned, "move on, please, Little Leaf! You are killing me here!"  
  
It took only a moment, then Legolas obeyed. His hands lingered a few more moments on the soft flesh that refused to harden under his attentions, although the nimble fingers did their best to coax it up, then they moved on and found the soft scrotum and the sacs, starting to tease and massage gently. One of the clever hands trailed further down between the hard-muscled buttocks. Aragorn hissed as a nimble finger found the puckered hole of his most private entrance and lingered to stroke and tease around it. He could not help tensing up in anticipation. It had been so long since he last allowed his lover to do that...  
  
Yet to his frustration, the finger didn't dip inside, but circled his hole a few more times, then left him again. He suppressed the urge to whimper. _What was his devious, impish Elven slave suddenly up to?!_  
  
Legolas lavished the tit under his lips with mouth and tongue, grinning at Estel's little moan of protest. He graced the nipple with a last, gentle bite - Estel moaned and jerked up against him – then he trailed further down kissing and licking his way from the hairy chest to the belly-button.  
  
Meanwhile, one of his hands sneaked out under the blanket to the little vial of oil he had placed in easy reach beside their weapons. He blew into Estel's navel and proceeded to licking around it and burrowing his tongue in it. He had to grin at Estel's little yelp and thorough squirming. Estel was ticklish here, and Legolas knew it. He was delighted at the rumbling laughter answering his assault, and the hands of his master buried in his hair.  
  
"Legolas, please!" Estel begged helplessly. "Don't tease so, Little Leaf! I need you!"  
  
A little disappointed, yet obedient, Legolas finally gave in and moved down to suckle on his master's shaft.  
  
Which had still not stirred nor filled out more.  
  
Legolas looked up, startled out of his haze of pleasure, and met Aragorn's gaze.

  
Aragorn groaned as the hot mouth closed over his sensitive member. He felt Legolas freeze and looked down to see what was wrong. Yet he knew already. The blanket had fallen away at some point during their proceedings, and he could see the face of his Elf, cheeks hollowed in pleasuring his master's manhood – which still refused to harden for him, despite of all his ministrations. While he watched, Aragorn could see a flash of grief and disappointment flash through his Elf's eyes.  
  
He could not take it.  
  
He shook his head and caressed his lover's face. "Don't mind that," he said again, voice raw in need, "I do not need to grow hard to enjoy having you fill me! Please, Little Leaf! _Take me!_ " he urged then. _"Make me yours!"_  
  
He could see the eyes of his Elf dilate and turn black again in sudden desire at his words. Then Legolas closed his eyes, and engulfed the man's soft member. Aragorn groaned as the talented tongue swirled over the sensitive head, and the suckling sensation gently massaged his length, although the stubborn flesh still refused to gain full hardness. Then he gasped as he was breached by a nimble finger, entering him, caressing him from the inside, in rhythm with the working mouth. He could not help tensing up against the gentle intruder; but there was no pain. The finger was well lubricated. He had not even noticed when Legolas had managed to coat his hands with the oil.  
  
Then the clever digits found his sweet spot, and pleasure exploded in his head.  
  
Legolas swallowed in anticipation at Aragorn's harsh breathing and thrashing movements. He forced himself to take his time, to stretch and prepare patiently, although he was so hard himself that he could hardly wait any longer. Finally, after the first finger had been joined by the second, then the third, he gave the soft member of his master a last, suckling caress, and let it go and straightened up. He positioned himself between Aragorn's legs and moved them up so they were bent and spread apart for him.  
  
  
Aragorn could not help swallowing. It had been so very long since he last had allowed himself to be taken. He knew there would be pleasure, yet he could not help feeling a little tense. He felt the slender fingers intruding again, caressing his channel, stretching gently. Then the fingers left and were replaced by thick, hot flesh. Aragorn hissed as the hot silken column breached him and entered, at first only the head, then pushing slowly further. He tensed in sudden pain, and Legolas immediately stopped. Aragorn took deep breaths while he allowed his passage to adjust to the intruding member. Legolas' body inside his own felt unbelievable: hot, tight, full, completing him in ways he could not fathom... and the face of his Elf while he did this was a marvel to behold: glowing in pleasure, full of concentration, and shining in raw longing and complete abandon. The sight nearly undid him. The thought flickered through his mind: _'I really should do this more often!'_ \- and in fact for a few, long moments he could hardly understand why he had not.  
  
Then he remembered, and for a moment, it it filled him with sharp grief.  
  
 _If only he could give him more of this! If only this would be enough to keep his Elf alive..._  
  
Yet it was not, and so all he could do was to give himself to this moment and his Elf and keep the sight of Legolas' joy treasured in his heart as best as he could. He knew it could not last. He knew they could not stay like this. But he could give his Elf this gift, here, now, the very least that he could do for him...  
  
So he looked at his Elf, savoring his joy, and wishing with all his heart he could do more. Then Legolas hit his sweet spot again and he gasped with joy and and all thought left him.  
  
Carefully Legolas began to move inside him, and Aragorn gave himself completely over to the moment.  
  
  
While Legolas entered his master, his mind was briefly flooded by the memory of another time....  
  
 _  
// / "Make love to me!" the young Adan demanded.  
  
Legolas' eyes went wide. "You mean?--"  
  
Estel nodded. "Yes," he reassured his lover, "I want to feel you inside!"  
  
Legolas hesitated. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected such an offer. "Are you sure?"he asked carefully.  
  
He was rewarded with a look of love and trust.  
  
"Yes, I am sure," Estel affirmed, "I want to feel you inside! I want to feel what you do when I make love to you!" He noticed his lover's hesitation and looked puzzled. "Do you not want me?"  
  
Legolas felt himself melt inside. He could have died on the spot and counted himself happy. "Yes, I want you," he replied, "it's just... I don't want to hurt you!"  
  
Estel's eyes grew wide. "It **hurts?** " he asked, startled, "But... I thought..."  
  
Legolas could see the concern shining in his eyes and hurried to reassure him: "It always hurts a little. But when it is done rightly, the pleasure far outweighs the pain. It always does when you lie with me."  
  
The concern in his lover's eyes changed to trust and determination. "Then I want you to take me!" Estel said. "I know you will not hurt me!"  
  
Legolas could not resist any longer. He leaned forward and closed the mouth of his lover with a kiss.  
  
"I won't" he promised then, when he started to make love to his beloved, "I won't!!!"  
  
And he did his best to keep his promise.  
  
And yet, Estel's eyes were round as saucers when Legolas positioned himself and carefully entered him, first with one finger, then another and another. Trust shone in the young Adan's eyes, but it mingled with apprehension and fear.  
  
Then Legolas' finger found Estel's sweet spot, and the young man shouted in surprise.  
  
"What was that?" he finally asked when he could breathe again. Legolas marveled at the expression of wonder in his eyes.  
  
He smiled. "That is the reason why it is well worth it," he said, and plunged down on his lover, and Estel gave himself willingly over to him.  
  
Their coupling was pure bliss. When Estel reached his peak, it was the expression of abandon and ecstasy on the young human's face that undid his lover. / //_  
  
They had often lain like this together, in their first, blissful year. He had never forgotten any of these moments, and he had treasured every single one deep in his heart. As he had done with every single time Aragorn let him have him later, rare as it had been, after the change when they had become master and slave. Every single occasion was a memory he would relish until the end of Arda, if he was to live that long.  
  
And now Estel was giving him this gift again.  
  
It was bliss. It was pure, wonderful bliss, feeling Estel's body closing around him, feeling his little movements, hearing his gasps, feeling his flesh fluttering against him. Joy surged through him, elation that Estel would give him this, and every moan and gasp filled him again with joy that he was allowed to give such pleasure. When Legolas finally reached his peak and spilled himself inside his human's body, he shouted Estel's name and heard Estel's answering whisper of his own. He was flooded by joy, riding the bliss closing around them both in waves. At last, he collapsed exhausted over his lover's body, resting a moment before he slipped out to separate them.  
  
 _// / When he was done and their bodies were separated, he held his young lover in his arms, glowing in love and gratitude. Finally, he noticed Estel's wide eyes, looking at him in wonder. He felt a sudden surge of concern. "Did I hurt you?"he asked.  
  
At first, the human bravely shook his head. Then he gave in. "A little," Estel admitted. "But you were right, the pleasure was well worth it!"  
  
Legolas smiled back at him. "I'm glad," he said. "I've never done this before."  
  
Estel stared at him incredulously. "You didn't--?! But I thought!--"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I have been taken, yes. But I have never taken anyone myself. Until today," he said. "I am a slave, remember? A slave is taken by his master, not the other way round. It **simply isn't done!** "  
  
Estel scowled at his bitter statement. "Not with me, you aren't," he said. "But I am glad you did not do this before with anyone."  
  
Legolas looked at him questioningly. Estel kissed him.  
  
"This way, we have something that just belongs to **us** ," the young human said. "Something that just belongs to you and me. Thank you!" he concluded. "Thank you for this gift. I love you!"  
  
"And I love you," Legolas answered him, and meant it, "with everything I am." He kissed his lover again. "Thank you, Estel. Thank you!" / //_  
  
  
Legolas opened his eyes and looked at his human master. Aragorn's eyes smiled back at him. Legolas could not resist; he brought their mouths together in a kiss.  
  
"Thank you," he said then. "Thank you, Estel!"  
  
"It was my pleasure, Little Leaf," his _Adan_ said. "I would give myself to you more often if it would but keep you alive." He reached out and caressed his Elf's face. Legolas savored the caress; but he noticed his master's slight tension.  
  
He looked down between them, and saw Aragorn's still just half-erect member lying dormant and unspent between the _Adan's_ legs.  
  
Aragorn had hardly been aroused. All the pleasure they had shared tonight had hardly made him stir.  
  
It was too much. Legolas could not help himself. He broke down, buried his face in Aragorn's chest and cried.  
  
Aragorn tenderly held him against himself, petting his head. Finally, he placed a soft kiss on the bowed head and reached down to tilt his slave's face up to his own again.  
  
"If you cry every time I let you take me, Little Leaf, you will bring me to the conclusion that it is a very bad idea," he joked gently.  
  
Legolas just shivered in his arms. He couldn't answer.  
  
Aragorn kissed his cheeks. "Please don't grieve so, Little Leaf," he said. "I told you that I do not need to spill myself to enjoy having you take me. You gave me great pleasure tonight. Truly!" He placed kisses over his Elf's eyes. "Please don't cry anymore!"  
  
Legolas swallowed, trying to stop his tears. "Forgive me, master," he croaked. "It s just..."  
  
He looked up into Aragorn's sad, grief-filled eyes, and suddenly he could not stand it anymore.  
  
"Take me, My Lord," he begged. "Please! _Take me!_ "  
  
For a moment, Aragorn stared back at him without comprehension. Then he swallowed.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I would – I would have to hurt you again, Little Leaf. I do not want to hurt you, tonight."  
  
Legolas felt as if his heart would break.  
  
"Please," he said. "I'm sure. Please, take me, my Lord. I need to feel you!"  
  
Aragorn looked into his face for another moment, then he gasped. "All right," he said hoarsely, "if you're sure..."  
  
Arousal and desire surged through him and replaced his hesitation. He sat up and straightened himself, pushing his slave back. "Kneel!" he commanded harshly.  
  
Legolas obeyed, head bowed, legs spread, in the submissive pose requested by his master.  
  
Aragorn breathed harshly. "Remember that you asked for this," he warned. "Come here. I want your ass over my knees, face down. And do not move, or shout. _You are to keep silent_. Do you understand?!"  
  
Legolas nodded. He did not look up, just followed the command. When his master harshly grabbed his hair to hold him in place and smacked his hand down on his ass, setting off long-trained reactions of mixed pain and arousal, he gave himself over to the familiar sensation.  
  
  
It did not take much. The fact alone that Legolas had _asked_ for this, had begged him to be taken, especially after their tender sharing earlier tonight, was enough to spark Aragorn's arousal and make him hard and ready with much less than the usual amount of harshness. When he took his slave, roughly and demandingly, he nevertheless took care to bring Legolas to hardness and made him reach his peak, too. When he spilled himself within the Elf's body, he was overwhelmed by gratitude and held his Elf a long time after they sank down beside each other, completely exhausted.  
  
Finally, they lay beside each other, huddled into each other's arms. Legolas nestled against him, shivering, but clearly unwilling to let go. Aragorn stroked over his slave's hair silently, thinking back to their earlier sharing.  
  
Legolas' unbelievable tenderness, his sweet eagerness, his shining eyes... still to be given such a gift after all he had done to his Elf filled him with gratitude. And yet... For a moment, an unwelcome thought settled into the back of his mind, filling him with sudden, rekindled arousal.  
  
 _Maybe when this Quest was done they could repeat something like this. But maybe then, he could have Legolas tie him up, making the whole thing even more exciting by denying himself any way to urge his slave on save by command. And maybe he could use a paddle on Legolas before, just enough to brighten his ass and make him hurt; and maybe he could make him wear a carag(1), just big enough to remind him he was owned, and maybe he could trap his erection, too, allowing the Elf to come only when he received permission to remove the trappings..._  
  
The unbidden images were enough to make him gasp and bring him to sudden, instant hardness.  
  
Then he recalled the love and worship in Legolas' eyes as his Elf made love to him earlier that night, and loathed himself. Bile rose in his throat. How could he even _think_ to take this unbelievable gift of trust and love and twist it in such a way for his own pleasure?  
  
Nay. He would die before he went so far as to do that.  
  
  
Carefully and full of grief he stroked over the golden hair of the shivering Elf nestled against him, holding to him as if for sheer life.  
  
"We need to go back," he finally reluctantly said, "we will be missed already."  
  
Instead of following his command, Legolas just burrowed deeper against him, shaking his head a little.  
  
"Please, My Lord," the Elf begged, "not yet. Hold me, Estel. Just a little longer."  
  
Wordlessly, Aragorn enfolded the shivering slave more tightly in his arms. If it was necessary, he decided, they could stay like this all night – a small respite from the total mess he had made of the beauty and the love they once had shared together.  
  
____________ o ______________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Carag – Sindarin:_ Spike. Short for _taer carag aniron_ , straight spike of desire – a pleasure staff or dildo; in this case: a butt-plug.


	35. Past And Present V: Master And Slave, I

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. **Special warnings for this chapter** : none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
 **XXXIII. Past and Present, V: Master and Slave, I**  
  
  
In the end Aragorn found he needed to shake his drowsy slave awake and help him dress, then gently steer him back to the camp. Legolas seemed incapable of staying awake for long, and Aragorn asked himself how much sleep – or rather, peaceful dreams – his slave had had during these last few nights. Apparently, it wasn't much. He hoped sincerely that tonight, at least, would be better. At least neither of them had any watch-duty tonight.  
  
Returning to camp, he offered the Dwarf on guard only a short nod and then busied himself spreading out both their bedrolls close to each other, setting their weapons into easy reach and directing his Elf on the bedroll beside him. Tucking them both under their combined blankets, he proceeded to enfold Legolas back into his arms. Tonight, at least, the Elf was about to get some much-needed rest, if he could help it. Contented by the trust with which his Elf immediately burrowed deeper against him, he relaxed and soon fell into peaceful sleep.  
  
Legolas dreamed....  
 _  
// / Legolas could hear the trees whispering around them. Warm sun-rays filtered through the thick canopy above them, and everywhere the birds were singing their songs to greet the early summer. It was as if all the wood around him and Estel shared in their happiness. He lay, contentedly nestled in his young lover's arms, on the mossy ground, still caught in the afterglow of their slow and tender love play. Estel was busy painting idle patterns on Legolas' chest and listening to the forest-song around them. Legolas just savored the moment, glad of his lover's tender caresses.  
  
"You know, you are beautiful," Estel finally said. "You truly belong in this forest. You are glowing like all those green leaves up there. Only that **you** are **mine.** You are **my** little leaf, and unlike them, you only belong to me!"  
  
Legolas idly swatted at his teasing finger, then he frowned. He craned his head at his younger lover. "What did you call me?" he asked.  
  
Estel smiled mischievously. "Little Leaf," he said. " **My** Little Leaf. It fits, don't you think?"  
  
Legolas drew his brows together, starting to say: "Who are you calling 'little'," but then a thought flitted through his mind and he started. Frowning a little, he carefully asked: "Don't you like my real name, Estel?"  
  
His lover frowned and looked at him a little startled. "Of course I like your name!" he protested. "It's a beautiful name; it fits you!" Slowly, drawing out every syllable, he continued: " **Legolas** \- Greenleaf, glowing with all the fresh life of the forest. It is as beautiful as you!" he concluded, smiling. "Why?" He noticed Legolas' remaining frown, and hurried to ask with concern: "What's wrong?"  
  
Legolas hesitated. "Nothing. Just... if you like my name... why do you call me with a pet name then?" he asked a bit hesitantly. He saw Estel's stunned and a little hurt expression and hurried to explain: "It is just... your brothers..." - he stopped helplessly. But Estel had understood. He smiled and kissed him.  
  
"I know. They rarely call you by your name. They always call you 'Pet' or something equally belittling. Only I and of course Glorfindel ever call you by your name. I think, Glorfindel does so always. He even calls you 'Greenleaf' when he's speaking Westron, or Quenya!"  
  
Legolas nodded, dismayed he had to spoil this wonderful moment with such a discussion. "I know. He does so to make a point; it is a gesture of respect," he said carefully. "I am very honored that he cares so much."  
  
Estel looked at him keenly for a moment and cocked a brow. "While I do not?" he asked. Then he smiled and shook his head. He took his lover's shoulders and said seriously: "But 'tis not meant as a sign of disrespect when I call you such. 'Tis an endearment! It is a name I use for you as my beloved, a name for you that just belongs to me! And it is just reserved for us! It just belongs to you and me. Something special, as you are for me!" He carefully held Legolas' gaze. "Do you not like it?"  
  
Legolas felt himself melt under his lover's earnest affection. He leaned forward and kissed him soundly.  
  
"You can call me anything," he said, "For whatever name you give to me will always be an endearment to me." And he believed it at this moment between them, to the very core of his heart.  
  
Estel beamed at him.  
  
"Then I will do so," he said, "From now on you will be my Little Leaf to me," he kissed Legolas again, on mouth and both eyes, as if to seal their bond, "and I will be yours. Your Estel."  
  
"You always are Estel to me," Legolas murmured, "you always were."  
  
  
Estel settled back into the moss and returned to painting idle patterns on his lover's skin.  
  
"You know," he began again after a while, "I have been thinking."  
  
Legolas had been staring up into the green canopy above them following the path of the fireflies dancing in the sunlight. Now he turned his head back to his human lover.  
  
Estel didn't meet his gaze. He seemed fascinated by the patterns he was drawing.  
  
"I've been thinking about you and me, and about the future," he said. "I hate it that you belong to my brothers. You should belong to **me**. I mean, **just** to me. We are together most of the time, anyway."  
  
Legolas felt a pang of dismay. Why did his lover need to spoil this wonderful moment with thoughts and comments like that? Their official roles would catch up with them soon enough, as soon as they had to return to the house. And even more, what waited for them in the future... He refused to think about later.  
  
So he merely wrinkled his brows and remarked mildly: "I am their slave, remember? And I am bound to them by the spell. I will have to lie with them again, soon. And in any case, if they command me to their bed, I have to obey."  
  
Estel looked pained. "That's it exactly," he said fiercely, "it shouldn't be that way. You should belong to **me**! And I should be able to give you what you need, not them!"  
  
Legolas sighed. "Estel," he began, but Estel shook his head.  
  
"No," he said with sudden determination, looking up and meeting his gaze, "hear me out! I want us to remain together! I want you to be mine!"  
  
Legolas was somewhat startled by his sudden fierceness, and at the same time Estel's passion was greatly endearing. However, neither of them had power over this. So he began again, tiredly: "Estel..."  
  
Estel looked down again. He bit his lips. His face held a determined expression.  
  
"You know," he said again, "I will be twenty a few months from now. I will reach my majority. When I come of age, father will probably give me a special gift. It's customary!"  
  
Legolas tensed a bit. He wished Estel had chosen another topic. He knew how much the prospect of his majority meant to Estel, when he would finally become an adult in law and gain all the privileges attached to this. Of course he didn't begrudge Estel his coming of age, but he could not help his own feelings of fear and dismay at the thought, because it also meant that he and Estel likely would have to part. Gilraen, Estel's mother, had dropped hints lately that Estel's late real father, whose name she still refused to disclose, had been one of the Dunedain, like herself. Estel was eager to find out more about his heritage and planned to seek out the Rangers when he came of age, maybe even spend some time with them. And as much as Legolas wished for Estel to find out from whom he stemmed, it also meant Estel would leave Rivendell, and when he did, Legolas would lose him. Legolas could not bear this thought. He just couldn't. So he had tried hard during these last few months to banish any thought about the future and relish just what they had together now, as long as it lasted. He did not want to think about later.  
  
But obviously, Estel did. And he looked at him expectantly.  
  
Legolas forced himself to nod. "I know," he answered quietly. "Glorfindel told me about it. It's customary to honor the majority of any son of the house, by giving the young warrior a special gift. Your brothers talked the other day about the ones given to them at their time. Elrohir got a precious chain mail made of truesilver(1) that once belonged to Gil-Galad, and an enchanted sword that glows when Orcs are close. And Elladan got a special horse, said to descend from Nahar himself, Orome's stallion(2)."  
  
Estel smiled at him. "Exactly!" he affirmed. "But I don't want a horse, or any form of armor, even be it made of mithril! I want **you**!"  
  
Legolas looked at him, dumbfounded. Estel beamed at him.  
  
"Don't you see?" he asked, "It's perfect! I will ask my father for a slave. A special slave, belonging solely to me, as my own property and without any restrictions. I will ask him for you! I won't accept anything else. He will have no choice but to give you to me!"  
  
Legolas was startled. "You... want me to become your slave?" he asked alarmed.  
  
Estel looked at him, registering his alarm, and kissed him thoroughly. "Of course!" he affirmed then. "At least in name. I want you to belong to me officially. I want us to belong together! Think about it! You will be mine. Nobody save me will be allowed to touch you. The spell will be extended to me, so every time we make love I can give you what you need. And we will be together! We will remain together as long as I live. I could protect you! Nobody would be allowed to hurt you anymore, except with my explicit permission. Which of course I won't give!"  
  
His eyes held Legolas' gaze, pleading with him to understand.  
  
"I cannot set you free. You are a Mirkwood hostage, and father will not free you or your people just because I demand it. Nor can we force him," he said. "And you are bound by this accursed spell, so we can't even run away together! But I **can** make sure that we remain together! And you would not be just a hostage in my care. You would be my sole property, for me alone to use and handle as I wish. Father could not even punish you on a whim or take you back from me again to make you pay for some perceived slight another hostage - or your father's realm - committed. Nobody could gainsay me if I treated you gently! No need of hiding our feelings any longer, no need to keep from touching when we are in public, no more fear what my brothers may wish to do to you! You would belong to me! You would be mine, and it would be my business alone how I treated you! It would be perfect!"  
  
After a moment, he added fiercely: "And I would take you with me when I leave. We could explore the world together. You would be fighting by my side, and be my lover, wherever we go. Wouldn't you like that, too?"  
  
Legolas looked at him. He was touched by Estel's fierceness, his intensity. And what Estel said sounded good, of course. Still... He swallowed.  
  
"Elrond will never allow that," he said with conviction. "And your brothers... why should they agree to give me up?"  
  
He shook his head, bleakly. "It will never work."  
  
Estel shrugged. "Father won't know you'll be and mean much more to me than just my slave," he said, "and my brothers won't object. They have practically given you to me already, as it is. They will be happy to do it officially, now; I bet they plan to do so anyway."  
  
He kissed his lover again.  
  
"Do not worry so, beloved! It will work out just perfectly. You'll see! And nobody will ever have the power to part us again! You will be truly mine. I cannot be parted from you, and I won't. We will remain together, as we belong."  
  
Legolas savored the kiss. He wished he could be as sure as Estel that everything would be all right, but he could not shake the fear that something might go horribly wrong. And yet, staying a lifetime with Estel sounded and felt exactly like everything he wanted. He would not have to fear being parted from the one he loved. He would stay with Estel, as long as Estel lived. What could be better?  
  
"I would like that very much," he said. "I would be honored to belong to you, Estel."  
  
Estel smiled.  
  
"Make love to me," he invited. "I want to feel you inside me again. I am so happy we won't have to part. I love you!"  
  
"And I love you, Estel," Legolas said. "I truly do!"  
  
And he began to kiss and stroke his younger lover fervently. Soon they were eagerly sharing kisses and tender caresses again. Legolas dedicated himself to the worship of his lover's body with abandon. He resolved to take it slow and concentrated on bringing his lover to his peak with tongue and mouth before he would proceed to sheath himself in him. He smiled at Estel's little sounds of pleasure and his moans of protest at the slow pace. So engulfed was he in his thorough worship, that he didn't notice for some time that something was very wrong.  
  
But finally it registered in his mind that there was danger. He frowned. All his instincts were on alert, and something in the back of his mind was screaming. He stopped his slow suction of Estel's engorged member, and his head came up, listening. Then it registered.  
  
The forest was silent. The trees were screaming a warning at him.  
  
Alarmed, he let go of his lover's body and rose up. He ignored Estel's petulant protest: "Legolas, what's wrong? Don't stop now!" -- but it was too late.  
  
"What is this?" a sneering voice cut into their intimate moment. "What do you think you're doing with that slave?! Giving yourself to him like a slut? How disgusting!"  
  
Startled and disturbed, Estel's head came up beside him. Legolas turned, and they found themselves staring into the derisive face of Erestor.  
  
________________ o _________________  
  
  
Legolas was shell-shocked. He had to admit he admired Estel's quick recovery, for it took the young human only a heartbeat to shake off his stunned expression. Then Estel's posture changed and he narrowed his eyes.  
  
"What do you mean, Lord Erestor?"he asked haughtily and with just the right amount of arrogance, "I should think it was obvious enough what I was doing. I'm taking pleasure in this slave!"  
  
He shrugged. "Legolas **is** a pleasure-slave, is he not? So I am using him according to his purpose. I do not see, however, in which way this matter would be any of **your** business!"  
  
Legolas had to swallow at his tone. He quickly bowed his head in a submissive gesture, schooling his face to blankness and kneeling as was his duty in the presence of his betters. But it was hard to get control over his feelings. He knew Estel was lying, that he only said what Erestor needed to hear. He **had** to be lying, hadn't he?! Legolas hurried to cut off this train of thought and stopped himself from flinching lest he betray them both with his reaction. He knelt, head bowed, as he was supposed to.  
  
He could not see the face of the Noldor Lord in this pose, but he didn't need to; Erestor's sneer was audible in his voice.  
  
"You take your pleasure in this slave?" the Noldor mocked, "Although he belongs to your brothers? I wasn't aware that the Lords Elrohir and Elladan were in the habit of sharing! Except of course when it comes to the Lord Glorfindel. How does it come to pass you use the slaves of others without permission?"  
  
Legolas could not help flicking his gaze quickly to the face of Estel, who was still sitting on the ground beside him, obviously unwilling to give up his position and activity just due to Erestor's intrusion. Estel's eyes were cold as glaciers; they didn't betray any of the human's emotions.  
  
"Why would you think I haven't their permission?" the Adan asked coldly. "I am their brother after all! Of course I have their permission! I was invited. Now, if you do not mind, I'd like this slave to finish what he started, so if you would kindly leave and let me have my privacy?"  
  
Erestor sneered angrily. But he didn't walk away. Instead, he took a step closer and reached for Legolas.  
  
Legolas sensed his motion more that he saw it. He quickly rolled himself out under the Noldor's hand and well out of reach. He forced himself not to jump up and attack, but to stay on his knees, albeit in a position slightly behind and to the side of Estel's reassuring presence.  
  
Erestor growled. He made another step forward, but was blocked.  
  
Estel jumped up the same moment Legolas started to move. Now he stood, placing himself threateningly between his lover and the Noldor Elf.  
  
"What do you think you are doing?" he hissed. "This slave is not **yours** to touch! Go get your own!"  
  
Erestor glowered, but then he made a haughty face.  
  
"I was just going to take him to your father," he said. "Apparently that slave has overstepped his limits and shared himself with others than the ones to whom he has been given. Our Liege-Lord may decide if he accepts your claim of invitation or if there needs to be a harsher punishment!"  
  
Estel didn't move. "I don't believe it is **your** business with whom my brothers decide to share their slave," he snarled, "or even the decision of our father. Legolas is **their** property after all, and it is **their** decision whom they decide to invite into sharing him. I ask you again, Lord Erestor, to leave and grant me my privacy now."  
  
Legolas had to swallow at his posture. From his position, he could no longer see Estel's face, but the set of the shoulders of his lover – and his voice – spoke volumes. Estel was every ounce the warrior he had come to be, and he did not seem perturbed in the least by the mere fact that he was completely naked. Even more, he was deadly angry now. Legolas suspected that the young Adan was just a breath away from throttling the advisor of his foster-father.  
  
Erestor didn't budge.  
  
"If you wanted your privacy, why didn't you take your little bed-toy to your chambers?" he sneered, "Why did you take him here? No! I think your foster-father will hear about this! And he won't be amused that the human he took in and raised as his own son rewards his generosity by dallying with a lowly slave in the woods as if he had no sense of decency!"  
  
Estel tensed, obviously preparing to answer, or to attack, but at that moment another voice cut in.  
  
"Maybe he **liked** it here, Lord Erestor," the new speaker said, "what better place to enjoy taking a delicious body than this beautiful clearing, covered from sight by greenery and accompanied by the lovely song of birds? Maybe the young Lord Estel simply did not expect he'd be disturbed by anyone who might happen to stumble over them, but thought whoever would do so would be polite and discreet enough to silently move on and choose another place for themselves."  
  
Erestor spun in the direction of the voice. Legolas suppressed a sigh of relief, but could not help shooting their rescuer a grateful look.  
  
It was Lord Glorfindel, and he looked every inch as if he had just happened to come across them by chance.  
  
Estel turned to the other Noldor Lord and greeted him with a respectful nod. For the first time, he looked slightly embarrassed by his own nakedness, Legolas noticed.  
  
Erestor narrowed his eyes. "Lord Glorfindel!" he said, "What a surprise to meet you here! This forest seems quite crowded today. May I ask what brings you to this place?" He hadn't missed the fact that the golden headed Noldor was not wearing any weapons, other than his usual long knife. The Seneschal had not been hunting, or on patrol duty, then.  
  
Glorfindel shrugged and held his gaze. "Obviously the same as you, Lord Erestor," he replied coolly. "I was enjoying this wonderful day and took a walk. With just the difference that when I realized the young Lord Estel had chosen this place to indulge his pleasure with some company I resolved to choose another way. I was going to leave them to their privacy. Until the noise of your argument brought me back. I thought that there had been an attack!"  
  
Erestor glared at him. **"Some company?!"** he asked, "He was using his brothers' slave! I hardly think..."  
  
"And Estel has just explained to you that he has his brothers' invitation to do so," Glorfindel interrupted him. "So I think it would be prudent to leave him to it now, don't you agree?"  
  
Erestor thinned his lips.  
  
"I still think our Lord Elrond will be most interested to hear about this," he growled, "and I doubt very much he will be pleased to learn what his foster-son is doing!" He sent a last, glaring gaze over the tableau of the other Noldor Lord, the glowering human and the kneeling slave.  
  
Then he spun on his heel and started on the way back towards the house. "You can be sure that he will hear about this!" he threw over his shoulder. Then he was gone.  
  
Legolas let out the breath he had been holding. So did Estel. The human spun around towards his lover.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, kneeling down by Legolas' side, "did he manage to touch you?"  
  
Legolas just shook his head. He was badly shaken, and he was still having trouble getting over the things Estel had said on his behalf. Of course Estel had been lying. He **knew** he had been lying! Still...  
  
Glorfindel had hesitated another moment, listening. When he was sure Erestor was gone, he stepped close, slightly touching Legolas' shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry I wasn't in time to warn you," he said with regret. "When I saw Erestor heading this way, I followed him, but I wasn't fast enough."  
  
Then he rounded on Estel.  
  
"What did you mean, you were just 'using this slave according to his purpose'?!" he asked angrily.  
  
Estel paled under his accusations, but held his gaze defiantly. "I just told him what he needed to hear," he defended himself. "Legolas knows that I don't feel that way." He turned to his lover with concern. "You do know I love you, do you not?" he asked anxiously, "you do know I didn't mean it?"  
  
Legolas held his gaze and swallowed. "I do, Estel," he said quietly.  
  
Estel hugged him, and he closed his eyes a moment, grateful for the affirmation.  
  
Glorfindel interrupted them.  
  
"I'm glad you didn't mean it," the Noldor Lord said, "but we hardly have time for this! You know that this can mean Legolas' death, do you not? What did you think you were doing, letting yourself be caught unawares?! Erestor will be on his way to Elrond now. We must be fast!"  
  
Estel paled, mouthing tonelessly: "-- Death?"  
  
Legolas bowed his head, contrite. "I'm sorry," he said, "we should have been more alert. I should have--"  
  
Estel silenced him with a touch. "We were both unaware," he said. "Don't blame yourself for this!"  
  
He looked up to Glorfindel, desperate. "What should we do? I haven't really asked my brothers..."  
  
Glorfindel met his gaze, glaring at him, and he flinched. "Anyway. I cannot let Legolas be killed! There has to be a way!--"  
  
Glorfindel cursed. He shook his head.  
  
"I thought as much," he said. "This is bad. Very bad. But not everything is lost yet." He turned his frowning gaze back on Estel. "Cover yourself and run back to the house. Seek out your brothers. Hurry! You need to warn them so they can cover your lie!" he urged. "I will talk to Elrond. And you, Legolas," he turned back to the slave, "dress yourself and go back to your masters. Stay with them, whatever happens! They may punish you, but they will protect you! Don't let yourself be caught by Elrond or by his guards alone!"  
  
Legolas bowed to the Seneschal, grateful for his counsel, and hurried to follow his command. Soon he and Estel were covered in clothing again. Sharing a last, quick hug – possibly the last they would ever share – they then started back toward the house and to whatever fate would wait for them there.  
  
________________ 0 __________________  
  
  
"What were you thinking?!" Elladan's voice cut into Estel, and he flinched. "Letting yourself be caught unawares like that! And while using our pet without permission!"  
  
Estel bristled. "I was invited!" he insisted. "You invited me yourself, remember? That day shortly after I fought my first battle?"  
  
Elladan glared at him. "You declined as I recall," he objected.  
  
Estel opened his mouth to answer, but he was relieved of it by Elrohir, who was standing beside their kneeling slave, petting him casually. Legolas was shivering under his attentions.  
  
"Oh, come on, brother, it's not as if we didn't know!" he said reasonably. "Estel took Legolas shortly afterwards, and they have been together ever since. We both knew that, and we did tolerate it. It was quite sweet actually to see them holding hands together whenever Estel thought himself and our pet unobserved."  
  
Elladan turned his head to him, annoyed by his interference, then he glared down at their kneeling slave. "Yet still the fact remains that our pet has shared himself without explicit permission!" he insisted. He turned fully to Legolas. "You know that we can have you killed for that? Or mutilated?" he hissed.  
  
Behind him, Estel shouted, horrified: "No! Elladan, it was **my** fault, not his! You cannot do that!"  
  
Elladan ignored him, staring down at their kneeling slave and his twin brother, now crouching beside him. "Look at me!" he bellowed.  
  
Legolas did not dare immediately to look up and meet his master's eyes. The first thought flitting through his head was a cynical 'they need an excuse?' -- but that was certainly nothing he could dare to share with his masters. After a moment, he finally forced himself to look up as he had been commanded, and whispered tonelessly: "I know, My Lord."  
  
Elrohir beside him smiled and shrugged.  
  
"We will not do that, though" he said silkily, stroking over the shivering slave's back and shoulders. "You are far too lovely to waste you in such a way! But we may think up a prolonged punishment for you, if only to make a point!" He stroked the back of their slave some more in counterpoint to his threatening words and smiled as Legolas flinched under his touch.  
  
Elladan nodded thoughtfully. "We may even make our dear brother Estel watch, since he was the one who brought it down on you," he said with a sidelong glance at their human brother.  
  
Estel paled visibly again. "No! Don't hurt him! He only did what he was told to do! If you wish to punish someone, punish me! Besides, I will not participate in anything that will hurt Legolas!" he said.  
  
Elladan turned on him angrily. "Oh, yes, you will!" he hissed. "You will do everything we tell you to sort out this mess you made! You have done enough, letting yourself be caught like that, so now you will do everything needed to make sure we can cover your hide!"  
  
Estel paled even more under his tone yet opened his mouth to answer defiantly: "But..."  
  
Elladan took a step into his direction and Estel stopped. "No 'buts', little brother," Elladan hissed. "You will do **exactly** as we say! You will do whatever we demand of you for this! It will be hard enough already, as it is, to save our pet and cover up this mess. Father will be here shortly, and he will be livid! We will tell him you had our permission, of course, but it will be hard enough to soothe his wrath! He may demand our slave to be killed, or take him away from us as punishment and give him to somebody else. Erestor, for example, who wanted so long to have a share of him!"  
  
Behind him, Elrohir added sleekly while stroking through Legolas' hair: "And that would be such a waste, would it not?"  
  
Estel flinched and locked his gaze with Legolas, desperate, frightened grey eyes meeting equally fearful blue ones.  
  
Then Estel shook his head and looked to Elladan again. "No!" he whispered tonelessly. "Please, don't let this happen! Save him! I'll do anything, but please save him from father's wrath!"  
  
Elladan glared back at him, but then he nodded. "If we can, we will," he said angrily. "But you had better leave now to make sure of that! Father will be on his way already, and he had better not find you here!"  
  
Estel looked at him, then shared a last glance with Legolas. Legolas tried to look hopeful for him, but failed.  
  
Estel seemed to understand, though. He bowed his head.  
  
Then he looked up again at Elladan and nodded. "Be strong, beloved," he whispered with a last, short glance at Legolas, then he turned and left. / // _  
  
_______________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas turned in his sleep and moaned, He knew he was dreaming, he knew he was caught in a memory, and he knew he didn't want to continue this dream. Yet he couldn't wake up. He huddled deeper into the arms of the human who held him, but Estel was deeply asleep, too,and obviously he didn't register his slave's tossing in his arms. There was no escape from this dream, then; he had to relive the memories again.  
  
  
 _// / Estel didn't leave the chambers of his brothers a moment too soon. For only moments after he had left, they heard the angry approaching steps of Lord Elrond. The door opened, and there was the Lord of Rivendell, angry as an approaching storm. Elladan met his father's gaze, standing slightly between him and his brother Elrohir. Elrohir stood upright, too, but he didn't leave his place beside their kneeling slave, and his left hand still rested possessively on Legolas' head.  
  
Legolas took one look at the hated Elflord's face and quickly lowered his eyes and bowed his head. For once he was grateful for the closeness of his masters, and even Elrohir's normally so feared and loathed touch reassured him. He huddled into the shadow of his twin masters and tried his best to turn invisible. He knew that his life was hanging on a thread and it was solely in the power of his masters to save him, if they wished. All he himself might say or do now would only make it worse. So he bowed his head and tried to turn into a statue.  
  
Elrond was livid. And his mood wasn't improved by the tableau presented to him. He took a threatening step into the room.  
  
"What is this I hear?" he growled, "Your brother Estel has been caught whoring around with your slave without permission? You were careless enough about that slave that he could ensnare my foster son and seduce him to share himself with him, and now Estel gives himself to that worthless Mirkwood spawn like a common slut?"  
  
Legolas fought hard against the urge to jump up and attack. Only the hand of his master, for a moment burying more harshly in his hair, held him in place and prevented him from giving in into his fear and anger. Elrohir stood, as if nothing could ever shake him, facing his angry father and lord with complete nonchalance.  
  
So did Elladan. He had turned a bit so Legolas and Elrohir could see his face and he could at need share glances with his brother. Now he raised a brow.  
  
"Who says Estel used our slave without permission?" he asked, feigning astonishment. "Of course he had permission. We **invited** him!"  
  
Elrond stopped short. "You allowed your brother to be ensnared like this?!" he asked disbelievingly.  
  
Elrohir, from his place beside Legolas, shrugged. "Oh, **please!** " he said. "Who told you that he was 'ensnared'? He took pleasure in our pet, as he was supposed to do! Estel is certainly old enough to learn the ways of pleasure, is he not?"  
  
Elladan nodded. "He has been a man for some time now, and he has proven himself a worthy warrior. When do you think it's time he learned what a man must know about bed-play? We thought that it was time he learned how to answer his bodily needs in that direction as well."  
  
Elrond paused. "He's nineteen..." he objected.  
  
Elladan shrugged. "And he will be twenty in just a few months. You said yourself that is the time he will come of age. We often ride with the rangers, as you know. Many men have had their first experiences at an even earlier age. He 's certainly old enough to enjoy a body warming his bed, don't you think?"  
  
Elrond narrowed his eyes. **"With this slave?"** he asked incredulously, nodding at Legolas.  
  
Elrohir shrugged again. "Why not? He's available, he's ours, and Estel likes him," he argued. "Much better than if he had pursued that doomed affair with that cooking girl. She's free after all, and far under his station. What if she'd demanded that he marry her? That way our brother won't be sleeping around, and his needs are taken care of. Moreover, it all stays within the family."  
  
Elladan added: "And Legolas will never hurt Estel. Our pet is devoted enough to our brother, as it is."  
  
It was the wrong thing to say. Elrond furrowed his brows again and turned his gaze back onto the kneeling slave, glowering. His eyes glittered dangerously.  
  
"And after all, why shouldn't he?" he mused with false indifference, "when my foster-son is so devoted to him and lowers himself to being his whore as if he has no decency at all! Erestor tells me that Estel was in the process of letting himself be devoured by this worthless Mirkwood-spawn when they were disturbed, and then was even ready to defend him!"  
  
His voice held venom.  
  
Legolas paled visibly, schooling his face to blankness. It took all his strength to remain silent and keep kneeling motionless, head bowed, without showing emotion. All his instincts urged him to jump up and to attack, to kill, first the hated Lord of Rivendell, then the chief advisor if he got that far. At his side, Elrohir tightened his grip in his hair warningly, keeping him in place.  
  
The younger of the twins always had possessed an uncanny ability to read him.  
  
Regardless of Elrond's palpable anger, the twins seemed completely unconcerned. Elladan merely raised a brow, Elrohir rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, **Erestor** ," he said. "He has always been rankled that we never allowed him to share our slave. He probably was jealous watching Estel taking what he could not have. I think you should not place too much weight on his testimony in this matter."  
  
Elrond gave him a hard stare. "You would accuse my chief advisor of lying?" he asked dangerously.  
  
Elladan cocked his head.  
  
"We merely imply that he may have **misjudged** what he saw," he said diplomatically. "I hardly can believe that Estel would allow himself to be taken."  
  
He turned directly to the kneeling slave. "Look at me!" he commanded. "Did Erestor find you entering our brother? Or did Estel command you to enter him?"  
  
Legolas swallowed. He was utterly grateful for the wording of the question. Not daring to say too much, he merely met his master's gaze and shook his head. "No, My Lord," he whispered, blushing furiously.  
  
Beside him, Elrohir asked : "What did you do, then?"  
  
Legolas swallowed again, fighting his fear and hatred. He could not risk giving himself away. Carefully phrasing his words, he whispered again: "Your brother, My Lord, had me serving him with my mouth. He... had enjoyed me earlier, already."  
  
It wasn't exactly a lie, and so he was able to hold Elladan's gaze while he said it without flinching. And yet he felt as if he would choke on the words. He hated Elrohir for forcing him to lay out for him what he and Estel had shared together.  
  
If the older twin saw through his deception, he at least didn't show it. Elladan merely raised his other brow and turned back to his father.  
  
"I do not think that there is cause for alarm, then, Adar," he said calmly, "albeit I admit it would have been wiser if Estel had taken his explorations to his chambers. But then, he likes the woods."  
  
Elrond scowled. His angry gaze turned back and rested on the kneeling slave, who now held his head humbly bowed again.  
  
"There still remains the fact that he nearly attacked my advisor," he growled, "and in defense of that worthless slave! He apparently needs to learn where his priorities should lie, and how to be a proper master! And that **snake** ," - he nodded into the direction of the slave- "needs to be taken care of!"  
  
He made a threatening step in Legolas' direction.  
  
Elladan took a casual step to the side that moved him between his father and his younger brother. He began to protest: "But, Ada!--"  
  
Elrond glared at him. But behind Elladan, at Legolas' side, Elrohir merely raised a brow.  
  
"Maybe," he mused, "our brother could indeed use some instruction how to properly use a slave. So far, we have just trusted his curiosity and inventiveness. But there are so many lovely ways of taking pleasure in a slave. Maybe it's time we taught them to him in a more direct manner." His hand, while he was speaking, was sensually stroking through the kneeling slave's hair, and his eyes rested on Legolas' body in a contemplative way.  
  
Elrond paused.  
  
His second-born son was devious, he knew, and very inventive. Normally, he did not trust Elrohir too far, for when it came to plotting the younger of the twins had an uncanny genius of thinking up the most intricate schemes to further his own and his twin's advantage. He also had fairly few qualms. And when it came to pleasure, the younger twin specialized in the more cruel arts and had an eerily accurate gift for reading his victim's most tormenting fears.  
  
This could be interesting.  
  
Elrond gave his second son a measuring gaze, raising a brow. He threw a short, grim look toward the kneeling form beside Elrohir's knee. "Using **that slave?** " he barked.  
  
Elrohir shrugged and smiled. "Why not?" he asked. "You just complained about Estel and our Pet here being too close. What better way to put our Pet back into his place than using him to teach the harsher ways of pleasure to the very one you claim he has ensnared? What better way to set Estel's mind right about what it means to be a master and how to treat a slave, than teaching him to use the one he always treated gently in a harsher way?"  
  
Elrond hesitated. He studied the shivering slave beside his younger son with glittering eyes.  
  
Legolas was frozen. Elrohir's suggestion had him horrified, and he had paled visibly under the proposal.  
  
His reaction did not go unnoticed. The Lord of Rivendell narrowed his eyes and studied him thoughtfully.  
  
"Very well," he finally decided. "But I want to be informed about the progress Estel makes! And you had better make sure he learns not only how to take his pleasure, but also how to keep a slave in line by command and discipline! I want you to make sure he learns to be a proper master, with everything that includes, especially concerning how to appropriately treat a slave and how to mete out punishment!"  
  
He rounded on the twins. "Do I make myself clear?!"  
  
Elrohir simply held his gaze. "Perfectly clear, Adar," he said, "I do not think we will have any problems teaching these things to him"  
  
Elrond turned to him.  
  
"Very good," he said dangerously and coldly, "and I suggest you be successful, because if you are not and I learn that Estel has been ensnared for good I'll have that slave killed. I will not have my foster-son corrupted into a weakling who doesn't know the difference between his own standing and that of a worthless slave and who knows not how to enforce respect and proper discipline in those whose only purpose is to serve him."  
  
Elrohir cocked his head, obviously unperturbed. "I do not think you need fear, Adar," he said. "Estel may yet surprise you." He smiled. "So far, he has excelled at everything."  
  
He stroked over the hair of the kneeling slave suggestively. "We will start his education today," he said, "and give it our highest priority."  
  
Elrond watched him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "See that you do," he barked, then he gave the slave a last, angry glare, and went out.  
  
The twins listened to his angrily retreating steps until they were sure he was gone.  
  
Finally, Elladan let out his breath. "That was close," he observed. He sent a skeptical glance to his twin.  
  
"Are you sure that this will work?" he asked. "Estel adores our pet. He even loves him. I do not think he will suddenly develop a taste for cruel bed-play, using him, or regard him merely as another slave."  
  
Elrohir shrugged. "Do not judge too fast about the preferences of our little brother," he said mysteriously. "He may yet surprise you. But in truth it doesn't really matter if Estel turns away from Legolas, or how he regards our pet in the future."  
  
He crouched down beside the slave again and started petting him lovingly, smiling as his victim shivered under his unwanted attentions. Looking up, he met his brother's questioning gaze.  
  
He smiled. "The important thing is that father believed it," he explained. "Trust me! We will save our little pet from being killed, get father to let Estel be with Legolas to his heart's desire, and have a lot of fun on top of it all. All we must do is keep father convinced that the plan is working."  
  
He looked back at their pet, and his smile widened. "And we will do our best to keep him convinced,will we not? I'm sure you'll do your very best serving all three of us together, me, Elladan and our dearest Estel. Won't you, little Pet?"  
  
Legolas trembled under his touch. He could not bring himself to give an answer. / // _  
  
  
____________ 0 ___________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) _Truesilver = Mithril._ This is completely made up by me. But I reasoned: Why not? Why should only Bilbo own one of these things? Gil-Galad was the last Noldorin High King after all, and they loved mithril and valued it nearly above all else. Wouldn't he have wanted to have a mithril chain-mail, too? And wouldn't he have bestowed it on Elrond in case of his death, like his ring?  
  
(2) _Orome (Sindarin name: Araw)_ is the name of the great huntsman of the Valar, the protector of the forest. His horse is said to be the ancestor of the Mearas of Rohan.


	36. Past and Present, V: Master And Slave, II

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions.  
  
**Special warnings for this chapter** : _**non-con!** **Very** **graphic BDSM. Foursome** (two halfelves, one human, and one hapless Elf). I mean it! _ This chapter tells how Estel began the path to his later needs. If you do _not_ wish to read this, you might wish to skip this chapter and read on with Chapter XXXV: "Master And Slave, Part III: Aragorn", though you might miss important information, as in _why_ Estel chose to play along. Still, there it should be safe to read again. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
**XXXIV. Past and Present, V: Master and Slave II**  
  
  
_// / **"Absolutely not!"**  
  
Estel stood in the chambers of his brothers, angrily staring at the tableau before him. Legolas was kneeling, head bowed, hair loose, clad in a thin loose garment, not daring to look up. He was trembling. The twins stood at both his sides. They were similarly clad, except their clothes were made of finer fabric. They had closed the windows and the shutters. The whole room was bathed in warm, glowing light by numerous lit candles. Elladan had just informed his foster-brother of their father's ruling.   
  
Estel, pale and angry, stood there like a warrior poised to attack and violently shook his head. "You cannot do that!" he exclaimed. "I'll have no part of this! You cannot force me!"  
  
Elladan gave him a hard stare. He narrowed his eyes.   
  
"We have been over this!" he hissed, "You agreed to follow our advice. You said you'd do anything!"  
  
Estel looked at Legolas again, who looked up at him, eyes full of despair. He shook his head once more. "Not that!" he exclaimed. Then he turned towards the door determinedly.   
  
"I'll speak with Adar!" he said. "I tell him that whatever he does to Legolas, he must also do to me! I tell him if he kills him, he has to kill me, too!"  
  
Legolas gasped, breathlessly. "Estel!"  
  
At the sound of his voice, Estel hesitated and turned around to give him a last look; his hand laid already on the doorknob. He got no further. Elladan took three, fast steps across the room and grabbed him by his shoulders, pressing his back against the wall.  
  
"No, you will not!" the elder twin hissed angrily,"For if you do that, you'll just convince father that he was right and you have been 'ensnared' by Legolas. So he will kill our pet, and maybe a few other hostages for good measure, and lock you into your chambers until you come to your senses. Which may yet take a while!"  
  
Estel glared back at him, looking mutinous. But at Elladan's angry words, Legolas flinched and gasped again.   
  
"No!" he whispered into the sudden silence, "No, not that! Please! I'll do anything!--" He took a breath. "Estel, please!" he pleaded then, uncaring whether he would be punished for speaking out or not, "Don't make him kill my people!"  
  
Estel flinched and turned his head to him. He looked torn.  
  
Elladan narrowed his eyes, still staring at his youngest brother. "And he will," he hissed. "Nothing will get father more angry than you openly standing up against him just to defend that Mirkwood Elf! He will see it as a personal offense! And of course, in his view, it will be Legolas' fault!"  
  
Estel glared at him, then he shook him off. He crossed over to Legolas and knelt down before him.   
  
"What should I do?"he asked quietly, taking the beloved face into his hands. "I cannot hurt you!"  
  
Legolas looked into his eyes and swallowed, grateful yet desperate. How much he loved this human! But he could not allow Estel to endanger his people. He needed to convince him to abandon his plan, and he needed to do it fast.   
  
He took a deep breath.   
  
"I can take it," he lied. "I can endure it, Estel. I am sure I can!"  
  
Estel looked at him, concerned and skeptical. "Are you sure?" he whispered. "I cannot..."  
  
Legolas nodded. "Yes, I am sure, Estel" he lied bravely. "I can take all that I have to."  
  
He tried to keep his fear out of his voice, but failed miserably. He held Estel's gaze.  
  
"Please! Do not give your father reason to hurt my people," he pleaded quietly.  
  
Estel bowed his head, then he leaned his forehead against that of his lover.   
  
"All right," he croaked, "If you are sure..."   
  
His voice broke. Then he kissed his beloved on the mouth and both eyes, as he had done that morning. "Then I will do it," he said raspingly, "but I will not enjoy it!"  
  
He gave the kneeling slave a last, quick hug and stood, moving a few steps away. His face was tear-streaked.  
  
Elladan had made an angry step in the direction of the pair when Estel knelt before the slave, but he was stopped by a gesture of Elrohir. The younger twin watched the exchange between the lovers thoughtfully.  
  
Now he nodded and stroked approvingly over the slave's head. "Such a brave Pet!" he praised, yet with a touch of mockery. "That is the right spirit! Although you did not have our permission to speak. It will have to add to your punishment, you know!"  
  
He crouched down beside the slave, petting him slowly. His voice adopted a seductive timbre. He looked up to his foster-brother and continued: "You see, Estel? He is completely devoted to you. He would do everything for you, except maybe endangering his people. And even of that I wouldn't be too sure if it was necessary to save you from harm! Do you not wish to honor this great gift? Do you not wish to savor how far he would go just to please you?"  
  
Legolas shivered. Elrohir saw it and smiled.   
  
"Besides," he said reasonably, still speaking to Estel, "how do you know you will not like it if you never try? Look! See his powerful muscles, these strong legs, made for a runner capable to outrun a horse, as we well know! These broad shoulders and deceptively lithe, strong arms, that can wield so deadly and accurate a bow– all that power, all that beauty, leashed and bound for you! Submissively waiting for whatever game you wish to play, or whatever pleasure or even punishment you may inflict on him. Completely at your mercy!"  
  
Legolas shivered under his words and touch.   
  
Estel swallowed. He felt himself drawn in against his own will and shook his head, briefly. He'd never thought about his lover this way before, but had a hard time escaping the spell Elrohir's words were weaving. Elrohir looked up to him and saw his reaction. He smiled.   
  
"See!" he continued while he slowly started to open the laces that closed the garb the slave wore, "He's freshly bathed and cleansed for you! He even purged and prepared himself, and oiled his body in scented oil to please you. He's straining for your touch! Look at this silken skin! Just begging to be marred a little by the whip. A few delicious stripes to adorn the paleness... or maybe some blows with the paddle, heating it up to rosy pink, or even angry red. And then you'd make him strain for every touch, whimpering for your attentions, although there would be pain mixed among the pleasure you may decide to grant. All that power bound and submissive, completely at your mercy. Don't you desire that?"  
  
Legolas shivered. Elrohir had expertly freed him from the garb that had covered him, and now he knelt completely naked beside the younger twin. Elrohir's words were underlined by his touches, stroking over his thighs, his buttocks and his sides, his arms and shoulders, massaging his nipples. He swallowed hard, feeling familiar, long-trained reactions setting in. He wasn't in need yet, at least not badly, but his body was already eager for the touch and the attentions of his masters. Yet that he should be forced to display that reaction in front of Estel... His fear and loathing of Elrohir's touch mingled with despair and mortification.  
  
Elrohir knew that. His smile grew wider.   
  
"He is eager for you," he said suggestively, "he is straining for your touch and eager to give you pleasure... in whatever way demanded. And he is here and going to suffer through whatever we are going to do to him all for you. Would you deny him? Or would you honor his devotion to you?"  
  
Kneeling a little to the back of the slave, he threw the garb away, took the hair of his victim in one hand, and pulled his head back. Simultaneously, he placed the other hand at the small of his back and shoved a bit. "Present yourself!" he commanded, "Show Estel what you have to offer!"  
  
At his command, the slave obediently spread his legs, arched his back and tilted his head back, displaying his neck. He was breathing hard, now.   
  
Elrohir smiled at his labored breathing and let his hands trail over Legolas' chest, kneading his nipples. Then he let one of his hands trail down to his victim's groin, massaging the half-erect flesh languidly. Legolas' breathing quickened, and his member started waxing, much against his own will. Elrohir stroked him expertly, flicking a finger over the sensitive head and circling the flesh there. His voice was low and dangerous.  
  
"Make no mistake," he purred, "you will suffer thoroughly, tonight. We won't go very far, of course – we do not want to scare Estel, now, do we? But still, this night won't be easy on you, and there are many other lovely nights to come yet, after this one..." He grazed one delicate ear with his teeth and grinned at the slave's involuntary jerk.   
  
He licked slowly down the sensitive neck of his victim, then scraped his teeth over the joint of neck and shoulders. Legolas gasped. Elrohir's grin deepened. He continued to massage the groin of his slave, coaxing the reluctant flesh to fill out and engorge. His other hand trailed over Legolas' chest and sides and up to his neck again, trailing across the sensitive skin, then dropping for a moment back down to linger on his nipples.  
  
"I think we'll have you wear the collar for us, tonight," he continued thoughtfully, "and clamps for your nipples, and some weights. You'll taste the whip, of course, and the paddle. But maybe we could make you wear a carag, too. Along with restraints for your groin, so you'll stay all erect and excited until we are done. And some hot wax, definitely! If you are very good, we may let Estel soothe your groin after we poured wax over it!"  
  
Legolas swallowed a sob. He trembled harder.   
  
Elrohir's hand came up again, caressing his face. "He may even let you find fulfillment," he said seductively. "Of course only after we all are done! Wouldn't you like that?"  
  
Legolas shivered constantly now under the hated touch of the younger of his masters. He could not help another sob. His breath came hard and irregularly. He was all too aware of Estel's presence.   
  
  
A few steps away, Estel watched with horrified fascination. The display before his eyes was like nothing he had ever seen. Whatever he had expected, it was nothing like this; he could see Legolas' apprehension, but also his arousal, and the low timbre of Elrohir's voice caught him and drew him in and sent shivers down his spine. As did Elrohir's expert caresses of the beloved body, Legolas' sensual reaction. Estel swallowed hard. He tried to clear his head.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him and spun around. He saw Elladan, turning the key in the lock and bolting the door. Then the older twin crossed over to a big chest at the other side of the room, beside the broad bed, and began to rummage through it.  
  
Estel swallowed again, irritated. He had completely forgotten Elladan was there, too, for a moment. He heard Legolas gasp behind him and turned around again.  
  
Elrohir bowed over the upturned face of the slave and took his mouth in a deep kiss. One of his hands had gripped the slave's hair again, the other held his chin firmly in place. He came up again, licking his lips, and his gaze fell onto his younger brother.   
  
Estel could not help himself. He stepped closer, as if drawn on strings.  
  
Elrohir saw it and smiled.  
  
"You want to join in already?" he asked teasingly, studying the human. He tilted his head.  
  
"Nay, I think not! At least not now, while we are just getting started. You will just watch at first. You may not interfere. You can always join in later, any way you want. Legolas surely won't object to having you close or feeling you touching him, will you, Pet?"  
  
He smiled at his victim, returning to kneading the slave's groin.  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. He refused to answer.   
  
Elrohir grinned. He turned back to Estel.  
  
"He may even like it! But first, watch and learn. You need to know how to do this correctly, after all!"  
  
Elladan suddenly turned up beside them, carrying a number of intriguing items. Some, Estel recognized, and shuddered at the sight: there were a whip with several, long lashes, a nasty-looking riding crop and a wooden paddle. But there was also an exquisitely worked, flat chest with intricate carvings, and two oddly formed instruments he had never seen before. One looked like a staff of balls of different size, the smallest one at the top, the widest at the base over what looked like a handle. The other looked more conic, becoming wider at the base but then narrowing again a little and ending in an oddly flat, broad handle. Estel stared at them in morbid fascination. He noticed, that unlike him Legolas seemingly recognized the items well; he paled at their sight, as well as at the sight of the carved box. His eyes widened a bit and he trembled harder.  
  
Swallowing hard, Estel forced himself to remain calm. He had to remind himself what was at stake and that he couldn't, that he mustn't interfere, that doing so would mean betraying Legolas to death, that Legolas would never forgive him if he endangered his people...  
  
Frozen to the spot, he watched in mute fascination how Elladan crouched down on the rug beside the slave and set the instruments of torture carefully on the ground, a little to the side but still in easy reach. Then the elder twin took the many-lashed whip and stood again, looming threatening over the slave.   
  
"First you need to set the mood," he explained, seamlessly taking up Elrohir's explanation. "The build-up is important. You need to let your slave anticipate what's coming, need to give him time to fear and wonder. And, of course, to get excited for you."  
  
He gripped the handle of the whip and trailed the lashes slowly over Legolas' bare shoulders, then his chest, still arched forward as commanded, teasing the nipples, then he let the lashes trail further down, tracing the belly, the thighs, the unprotected groin...   
  
Legolas breath came hard and fast. He shuddered at the touch of the lash at his most vulnerable flesh, frozen in apprehension. Then he felt Elrohir's touch around his neck and suppressed a sob.  
  
Elrohir leaned forward and took the little chest. He opened it carefully and took out a broad, fine leather collar attached to a thin, long chain. He set the chest aside, tucked the hair of the slave out of the way and fastened the collar snugly around his victim's neck. He placed the ring with the leash at the throat and gave the leash an experimental tug. Legolas jerked a little forward, and he grinned again. Finished, he leaned back a bit and admired his work.  
  
"Perfect!" he said, "Well and truly leashed, as you should be!" He turned back to Estel. "He looks delicious like this, doesn't he?"   
  
Estel could not help himself. He swallowed hard again, strangely captivated by the sight despite his best intentions.  
  
He was distracted by Elladan, who had set the whip aside and crouched down beside the slave again. Now the elder twin took two items from the box and leaned in to take his victim's mouth in a demanding kiss.  
  
"Yes, he is," he said, moving on to one delicate ear, "a real feast, waiting to be tasted." And with that, Elladan bit lightly into the sensitive lobe, eliciting a gasp.   
  
Elrohir smiled. The younger twin stroked lightly over the back of the slave, his other hand still firmly holding the leash. Then he let go and took one of the oddly formed staffs, the one with the different-sized balls. He retrieved a small flask from the box and uncorked it; then he busied himself with coating the staff with a clear, scented liquid. Closing the flask again, he set it aside and made sure that the whole staff was well covered with the liquid.  
  
Legolas could not suppress a shudder when he saw the younger of his masters reaching for the **carag sern aniron(1)**. It was one of the less painful toys in the twins' possession, but still it could be quite vicious if it was fully inserted. He could not help a sigh of relief when the familiar scent of the oil reached his nose. At least Elrohir wasn't using the irritant in the other flask the box contained!   
  
He was so occupied with the the actions of the younger twin, that he momentarily forgot about the other one. He started when a slick tongue licked again over his ear, then trailed down over the column of his neck, occasionally accompanied by grazing teeth and little nips, then finally settled on his nipples.  
  
From behind, he suddenly felt his hair grabbed and painfully tugged back again, forcing his head into his neck. "Arch your back!" Elrohir commanded, "You have no leave to relax your pose save with our permission!"  
  
Mutely, Legolas obeyed. He tried to keep his face blank; he was painfully aware of Estel's presence, who watched the proceedings with mute horror and fascination. He could not help his breath coming fast and hard, though. Elladan teased Legolas' nipples expertly, alternating between teeth, hands and tongue. Against his will, Legolas felt his face flush and his groin react. Then his breath hitched when he felt himself entered from behind by Elrohir's fingers.  
  
Elladan worked the nipples under his mouth and hands until they were fully erect and hard. Then he gave them both one last, quick bite - and closed the clamps first over the one, then the other. Legolas started, but was stilled again by a harsh tug at his hair by the other twin. "Be still!" Elrohir commanded. "You have no leave to move! Besides," he added with a purr, "this is just the start. There is so much more to come yet!"  
  
As if to underline his words, his twin reached into the box again and took out two small, but heavy weights. He attached them carefully, on to each clamp. Legolas swallowed hard under the strain. Then Elladan leaned back and admired what he had done.  
  
"Perfect!" he pronounced. "I think he is ready now!"  
  
Elrohir shook his head. "Nay!" he said. "There remains still one thing!" He removed his fingers and gave the slave a little shove, grabbing the leash and tugging at it. "Lean forward!" he commanded harshly, "Present your backside to me!"  
  
Shivering, Legolas obeyed. He bit his lips as his entrance was pierced by the tip of the pebbled staff, and Elrohir worked the toy expertly inside, stretching the tight muscle each time another – and bigger – of the balls was forced in. Then the tip of the device grazed over his sweet spot and his breath hitched again. He jerked. A tug at his throat reminded him to keep from moving, and he tried to remain calm as Elrohir rubbed the staff over the sensitive gland within his passage again and again, making him helplessly and achingly hard and straining to come. At the same time, he was cringing inwardly at his own body's reaction. He had not been this ashamed of his own enforced reactions to the manipulations of his masters for a long time, anymore; but then, Estel had not been present at these times, before.  
  
Legolas was close to his peak. He could feel it in the building pressure in his groin, the burning need for release. He did not want this enforced arousal, hated his body's reaction, since he knew what would happen next, but he could not help himself. Then he felt hands closing around his groin and knew what was to come, and he closed his eyes in shame and frustration.   
  
Estel stood, fists balled, tears on his cheeks, holding himself in check with effort. It took all his strength not to intervene. Again, he reminded himself with effort what was at stake, why he mustn't interfere, why he had agreed on doing this in the first place. At the same time, as much he tried to fight it, he could not help his morbid fascination. The display before him was incredible. Against his own better intentions, he felt his body react, felt himself grow hot and hard. He swallowed, fighting his arousal. It didn't seem to work.  
  
With burning eyes he watched as Elrohir inserted the oddly formed device into his lover's body, as Legolas reacted and became obviously hot and ready from the movements of the thing within him, breathing hard and fast while Elladan held his head down by the leash attached to the collar. Then Elladan reached into the box again and took out a small double noose made of leather. Using the leash, he pulled Legolas' body up again, then his hands closed around the straining member of the Mirkwood Elf. He slipped the smaller noose over the engorged flesh, then he buckled the other around the groin, over the balls, tightening the nooses until the straining elfhood was trapped, and fastened the clasps. Legolas moaned quietly. Elladan stroked over the trapped erection and grinned evilly.  
  
" **Now** he is ready!" he declared. "I think now it is time for the whip!"  
  
At this point, Estel finally found his voice again. "No!" he croaked, "No! Please don't hurt him anymore!" He made a step forward, meaning to intervene.   
  
Elladan turned around to him. "Do not interfere!" he hissed. "You agreed to play along! You assured us of your compliance!"  
  
Beside Legolas, Elrohir tilted his head. "Besides," he added in a calmer tone, "it is nothing our Pet here would not know. He's been through this before. He told you he can bear it, did he not? And he has been very brave. Would you now ruin everything he's willing to endure? Would you doom him this easily?"   
  
Estel hesitated, glancing over to his trembling lover, meeting Legolas' desperate, pleading gaze. "I.." he croaked hoarsely, but he couldn't continue. The words would not come. Desperately, he tried again:"I--"  
  
He stopped again. But Elladan just had had enough. The elder twin growled angrily:  
  
"You were the one who caused this! Will you back out now? Shall I go to our father then and tell him you refused our plan so he will turn his wrath on our Pet, or will you play along?"  
  
Estel took another long look at Legolas' pale face, his pleading eyes, asking him to play along, not to do anything that would endanger the Elf's people.   
  
He bowed his head.   
  
Then, after a moment, he looked up again, searching Elladan's gaze. "May I--" he began, then cleared his throat. He tried again. "May I hold him?"  
  
Elladan sneered, looking at him incredulously. "You want to hug him **now?!** " he asked, nearly scoffing. Elrohir merely raised a brow and watched him sceptically.  
  
Estel shook his head.   
  
"May I hold him while you... -- through the whipping?" he rephrased his request.   
  
Legolas looked at him a little startled, but then his eyes were flooded with relief and gratitude. Elrohir regarded the pleading human a moment thoughtfully, then he looked back at the slave considering.   
  
He gave a slow smile.  
  
"What an intriguing idea..." he mused, drawling the syllables while he spoke. "I think our pet would like that, wouldn't you?"  
  
Legolas didn't answer, but luckily enough, Elrohir did not intent on receiving a reply. He turned to his older brother.  
  
Elladan took a skeptical look at his younger twin's face, then he shrugged.   
  
"Why not? I suppose it can't hurt," he stated.  
  
Elrohir tilted his head.  
  
"Well, then, Estel, if you really want to participate, I suggest you get rid of your clothes," he said nonchalantly. "And hurry! The night is long yet, and we do not want to wait much longer!"  
  
Estel shared a last, short gaze with Legolas. Then he bowed his head and started to strip, leaving merely his loincloth on. Carefully and slowly, he then approached his beloved, knelt before him and enfolded him in his arms. He placed a soft kiss to the slightly damp cheek beside his own, then he pressed the golden head firmly against his shoulder, laying one arm around the beloved neck and the other around one of Legolas' shoulders. His free hand settled against the back of his lover's head, petting him carefully. "Are you ready?" he whispered into one delicate ear, and felt Legolas' nearly imperceptible nod against him.  
  
"He is ready," he then announced for them both, and bit his lip as Elladan grabbed the whip with the many leashes and stood. Elrohir grinned broadly and moved aside to give his twin space. The older twin moved behind the slave and raised the whip.  
  
"Very well," he said harshly, addressing his victim, "do not move and do not make any noise, except if you are commanded to do so! This will be twenty lashes for a start, ten to your buttocks and ten to your back. Later this night you will taste the paddle, too. Do you understand?"  
  
Estel felt Legolas mutely nod against him, and flinched when a sharp stroke was delivered to the unprotected backside of the slave.   
  
"Answer me!" Elladan commanded.  
  
Obediently, Legolas replied: "Yes, My Lord, I understand. Thank you."   
  
His voice shook a little, and Estel held him tighter. Legolas tried hard to calm his shivering and put on a brave facade for his sake.   
  
Elladan simply nodded. "Good!" he said harshly.   
  
And he let the first blow fall.  
  
Legolas flinched as six stinging lashes bit into his unprotected skin at once. He bit his lips hard, to avoid crying out. He felt Estel flinch as well, and the human's arms tightened around him. He could hear Estel suppress a sob. He swallowed. He was grateful for his lover's solid presence against him. And yet , at the same time he was deeply mortified that Estel witnessed his abuse and humiliation. It was of little consequence, perhaps, since Estel had known for a long time his lover was a slave, and he had known – at least in theory- of the rather cruel preferences of his brothers; but this was different. Never before Estel had witnessed his brothers play, or Legolas being forced to endure what they did to him.  
  
The next blow fell, six biting lashes crossing the burning lines the first blow had left already on his skin. His breath hitched, and he shivered harder.   
  
Estel began to murmur sweet endearments and encouragements into his ear. "Be strong, my love! You are doing well! You are very brave! I love you, I need you to keep silent, you can do this, be strong for me!..." After a few moments, Legolas lost track of the words, just kept concentrating on the beloved voice and the soft, steady, encouraging murmur. He let himself be supported and strengthened by Estel's presence, by his soft endearments, by the tight hold of his arms. Estel shifted against him, and his chest scraped against the clamps biting in his nipples, aggravating the nagging pain he had almost forgotten under the burning bite of the whip on his back. He buried his face deeper in the shoulder of his lover. The human's hips moved against him and Estel's thigh brushed against his trapped, straining arousal. Legolas jerked a bit and moaned. Immediately, he was rewarded with another blow, this one even harsher that the ones that had hit him before. Elladan's harsh voice reminded him: "Keep silent! That will be three more blows for you right now! You understand?"  
  
Shivering, Legolas nodded against Estel's shoulder and whispered: "Yes, master. Thank you!" as was expected. He could feel Estel shiver against him. The human's hand petted his head mechanically.  
  
Belatedly, Legolas realized that he had not been given leave to speak again. Luckily, Elladan made no mention of his mistake, and there was no sharp reproach. But when the next blow fell, Legolas could not suppress a startled jerk and barely managed to stifle a yelp.   
  
Several of the lashes hit his buttocks, and so they struck the handle of the pleasure staff Elrohir had left inserted in his body. The blows transmitted themselves along the thing directly into his passages and made the staff throb and shift, grazing against his sweet spot. Bolts of unwanted pleasure exploded in his head, mingling with the pain coursing through him. He breathed hard and tried to keep still in spite of the double assault. He buried his face deeper in Estel's shoulder and smothered a moan.  
  
Sure enough, the next blow hit the handle of the staff again, as did the one that followed.  
  
When the whipping finally was through, Legolas was bathed in sweat and completely exhausted. Estel's soft murmur of endearments had become a steady stream of words, almost a prayer to his ears. The human had held him through the pain, petting, hugging, soothing, repeating over and over nearly inaudibly and just for his ears: "You are strong, you can do this, only a few more blows, it'll soon be over, you are very brave, you are my Little Leaf, I love you!"  
  
Legolas was not entirely sure if Estel had intended to calm him, or rather himself. But either way, it had worked, and he was grateful.   
  
He was relieved when Elladan finally stepped back and let the whip drop.   
  
"Twenty-three," the older twin declared. "That's it for now. At least you managed to keep silent through it this time!"  
  
Legolas allowed himself to slump against Estel's solid body. The human stroked over his dampened cheeks, his sweat-soaked forehead, then he gave Legolas a last, tight hug and kissed him tenderly.  
  
They were startled from their moment of intimacy by Elrohir's voice. "They are sweet together, are they not?"  
  
Startled, Estel looked up. Legolas carefully kept his head bowed and his lashes lowered, yet he couldn't help shooting a hidden glance at his cruel master. Elrohir stood close to them, studying them thoughtfully.   
  
He was joined by his twin. Elladan nodded, studying the two lovers critically. "Yes, they are," he agreed, "especially since our little brother is now so hard and ready he's nearly going to burst!"  
  
Estel flushed. Legolas started and turned his head up to look at him, wide-eyed and dismayed. He searched his gaze.  
  
Estel swallowed hard and looked away. He shook his head. "I... I'm not..." he faltered. Under his loincloth, the incriminating evidence of his traitorous body stood out hard and ready, testifying against him.  
  
Finally, he found the courage to look back at Legolas again and meet his lover's eyes. "I'm sorry!" he mouthed inaudibly, his eyes betraying both his shame and his involuntarily arousal.  
  
Legolas lowered his lashes and looked down again. Finally he nodded equally imperceptibly, although it took him considerable effort.   
  
Estel continued petting him helplessly.   
  
Elrohir tilted his head, studying his human brother. "He's doing well," he observed. He stepped close to Legolas again and tilted the chin of the slave up so he was forced to look at him.  
  
"You know, of course," he said nearly jovially, "that this was just the start. There is much more we have in store for you tonight. But if you're very good, we may allow Estel to take you in the end. You would like that, wouldn't you?"  
  
Legolas shuddered, his lashes fluttering down again. He refused to give an answer.  
  
Elrohir smiled. He stroked over the face of his helpless victim in an obscene caress.   
  
"Especially since we will take pleasure of your body tonight, but we will not spill ourselves within you, save maybe in your mouth. We will not grant you relief from the spell again until you are deeply in need!"  
  
Legolas started. He could not help looking up again, meeting the younger twin's glittering eyes. He knew he risked more punishment for this impudent action, but in his shock he did not care. His startled look was echoed by Estel, who stared at his brother in shock and disbelief.  
  
Elrohir smiled even wider. He stroked over Legolas' face once more, then he started petting his hair.  
  
"Don't fret so, little Pet!" he admonished, "'Tis for your own good! It's part of your punishment, of course; but also Estel needs to learn how far he can go when he decides to play, withholding himself, how you react when you are in need, and when he needs to feed the spell once he owns you for good."   
  
Legolas jerked under his touch, staring at him in complete disbelief. Then he quickly lowered his eyes again. Estel nearly let Legolas go in his shock and turned to Elrohir, staring at him with wide eyes.   
  
**"What did you--?"** he began, then he swallowed hard and began again: "You-- you mean--?"  
  
Elrohir grinned at him.  
  
"What?" he asked, "Did you think we would go to all this trouble if we didn't plan to give our pet to you in the long term, anyway?"  
  
He fondled the lowered face of the slave some more.  
  
"Not that we'd tire of him," he said lightly, "He's lovely after all! But as devoted as he is to you, we thought that in the long run you might appreciate him more. We have been planning to give him to you when you came of age for a long time, now."  
  
Elladan narrowed his eyes. He took up the thread from his brother seamlessly. "Of course," he said, "your actions today did not exactly make it easier. Now we need to convince father that you won't be manipulated by our slave if we give Legolas to you, but rather that you are quite capable of handling him."  
  
He tilted his head. "To do that, we need your full collaboration!" he said. "And I am not only talking about tonight. You need to convince **father** , after all!"  
  
Elrohir smiled. "But if you continue to do so well during the next few months, we may still give our pet to you when it is time," he said. "Eventually."  
  
Estel stared at them, then he turned back to Legolas, grasping him desperately. Legolas looked back at him, meeting his torn, desperate gaze. He was frozen in fear at the twins' words. And yet. At least, now, there was a possibility that this might not yet mean the end for them, and for their love. For the first time since they had been encountered by Erestor today he dared to allow himself to hope again.  
  
It was a desperate, a reluctant hope, but hope it was, nevertheless.  
  
His spark of hope, as fragile as it was, transmitted itself to Estel. The human looked into his eyes for a long moment, then he swallowed again and kissed him tenderly on his lips and both cheeks.  
  
"Then I will do that," he whispered tonelessly. "For us." His voice sounded raw and hoarse.  
  
He placed a last,chaste kiss on Legolas forehead and started petting him again. Legolas bowed his head and just relished the sensation for a moment.  
  
They were ripped from their intimate moment by Elrohir. The younger twin took the leash again and tugged lightly.   
  
"As sweet as this is," he said, "we should continue. The night is not getting younger while we speak. And we have so many more lovely things planned for you, little Pet!" He stroked over the face of the shivering slave again, then he turned to his human brother. "Step aside, Estel," he commanded. "'Tis time for the next part!"  
  
Tugging harshly at the leash once more, he commanded: "Bow down, Pet! 'Tis time you let us use your mouth again! I think I'll leave the first turn to my twin; I prefer to savor playing with you a little longer." He shoved Legolas forward so the slave was crouching on all fours, and gave the handle of the pleasure staff within his victim's passage another jerk. Legolas hissed and suppressed a whimper.  
  
Elladan, meanwhile, settled in front of the slave and discarded his garb, revealing his straining erection. He took the leash from his brother's hands and spread his legs wide. Then he jerked at the leash sharply, forcing the face of the slave down to his groin. "Get started!" he growled. "Do not make me wait!"  
  
Elrohir, settling behind the slave, smiled evilly. "And you better put some ardor in it," he threatened, "or I'll coat this toy" - he gave the pleasure staff another jerk - "with irritant!"  
  
This time, Legolas could not suppress the whimper. Flinching under the threat as well as under the assault of the toy against his prostate, he hurried to obey, closing his mouth over the engorged member of the older of his masters and starting to suckle. He moaned around the hot flesh that filled his mouth as Elrohir pulled at the staff, dragging it nearly completely out, then harshly forced it in again. The substantial size of the beads- especially the bigger ones at the base – stretched the muscles of his entrance painfully each time another one was forced past them, and the smaller beads at the top of the thing chafed over his sweet spot every time the younger twin thrust the staff back in. It was sheer torment, especially since his trapped arousal didn't allow him to find release from the ever building pressure in his groin.   
  
He whimpered again and was rewarded with another sharp tug at the leash connected to the collar around his neck. "Be silent!" Elladan growled harshly. "I want you concentrating on your work, not on your little discomforts!"   
  
Legolas swallowed around his master's member. He returned to suckling and swirling his tongue around the engorged flesh. Then Elladan began to move his hips, thrusting upwards, and Legolas was nearly choked by the hot column thrusting at his throat. He jerked as the staff within his anus was pushed in again and directly hit his prostate. The movement set swinging the weight attached to the clamps biting his nipples, a sharp pain vying for his attention against the sore and burning one on his buttocks and back. Elladan's hand gripped the back of his head painfully and forced his face further down, and he could not prevent a sob escaping him.   
  
He heard harsh breathing from his side, and what sounded like a stifled answering sob, and flinched again. He had nearly forgotten Estel's presence.  
  
Yet Elrohir had not. He could practically hear the younger twin's smile in his purring voice. "Come over here, Estel! Don't worry so, he's used to this, and he has endured worse. He told you he can take it, did he not? Look, do you want to make it worth his while? Here, take this toy. Yes, like this! If you move it carefully, **this** way, you brush his sweet spot, getting him all hot and ready..."  
  
Legolas more felt than heard them shifting positions behind him. Then the staff was moved in a new way. After a few awkward attempts – Legolas jerked and gasped when the thing bumped into him without his master's usual skill – Estel soon adapted to the toy and began to use it expertly, finding just the right angle to stimulate his lover. He was much more gentle than the younger twin, and he did his best to use the thing to bring pleasure, not pain, but since the ever building arousal he caused could not be released, his ministrations turned into torment. Elrohir, who - unlike Estel - well knew what he was doing, started to stroke the trapped erection of his victim in counterpoint to his younger brother's ministrations.   
  
"Sweet Pet," he purred, "You're doing this so well! Later, we'll let you wear the other carag, while you get to taste the paddle. You know, the one that will hit against your sweet spot with every blow... then you may pleasure me! If you are very good, we may even allow Estel to let you come... of course only after you have pleasured all three of us..."  
  
Legolas trembled and just concentrated on bringing Elladan to his peak as fervently as he could.  
  
_____________ o _______________  
  
  
As far as he could tell, the torment went on for hours; but he could not be sure, since near the end, he fell into an exhausted haze of pain mingling with need and arousal and was barely conscious anymore. His later memories of the night were scattered at best; glaring images standing out of a fog of muddled and confused feelings of abuse and pain. There was the searing sting of hot wax on his engorged cock, himself moaning in anguish, then the relief when his hurting flesh was soothed by Estel's cool, loving tongue; there was the moment when, finally, the twins allowed Estel to remove the trappings and to take him, and his lover spilled himself inside his body, granting him the delivering release as well. He barely registered that he was held, petted,soothed, barely registered gentle hands picking him up and carrying him out of the room, putting him to bed on soft, clean sheets, then starting to soothe and clean his bruised and sweat-soaked skin with a damp cloth. It took him quite some time until he drifted back to full consciousness again and finally registered where he was.  
  
He started, nearly jumping up. He was lying in Estel's bed, in Estel's chambers, and Estel was sitting beside him, patiently moistening again the cloth he had used to wash the grime and other fluids from the abused body of his lover. / // _  
  
______________ o _____________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:   
  
1) _carag sern aniron – Sindarin, lit.:_ spike (of) pebbles (of) desire. A pleasure toy.


	37. Past And Present, V: Master And Slave, III: Aragorn

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions.  
  
**Special warnings for this chapter** : _non-con! BDSM. Implied rape. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.   
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
__________________________________________  
  
  
**XXXV. Past and Present V: Master and Slave, III – Aragorn**  
  
  
_// /Startled, Legolas tried to sit up. "Estel!" he said, alarmed. "What?--"  
  
Gentle hands pushed him back down into the pillows, stroking over his shoulders soothingly. "Shhh!" Estel said. "Don't worry! It's all right. They told me I could take you with me."  
  
Legolas allowed himself to be pushed back down, too exhausted to struggle. He was confused and his mind was still a little fuzzy. "But-" he protested feebly.   
  
Estel shook his head, his face grim. "No 'but'! My brothers told me it would be all right, they would defend it to my father."  
  
His face twisted as if he were in pain. "They said I need to **'practice'** , after all!" he added bitterly.   
  
He dampened the cloth again and quickly looked away.   
  
Legolas looked at him,startled,then he sighed and settled obediently back into the pillow. Images threatened to come back, lurking just at the edge of his mind, and he shivered. He was glad of the wet cloth returning to his brow.   
  
He closed his eyes, trying to banish the assaulting pictures, and failing miserably. He had no words, no expression, to voice his feelings of despair, of pain mixed with disgust. He did not dare even to look at his lover.  
  
Exhausted, he allowed himself to drift back into his fuzzy haze again. Suddenly, one of the images turned up in his head and stood out in sharp relief.   
  
****************  
  
Estel, breathless in obvious arousal and complete fascination, while Elrohir dips the candle over Legolas' unprotected groin, telling him: "Don't make a noise! If you are very good, afterwards Estel will soothe you!"  
  
The hot, searing wax pouring down on him with a ghastly burning, he, jerking back, trying to stifle a whimper only half-successfully; Elrohir jerking lightly at the chain connected to the clamps on Legolas' nipples in punishment; then telling Estel that, since the slave at least **tried** to obey, he may reward him and soothe him anyway.   
  
And Estel complying; the cool mouth of Legolas' lover closing over his hurting, swollen member, suckling it delicately, while Elrohir is dribbling hot wax on Legolas' abused nipples in counterpoint....  
  
****************  
  
Legolas' eyes snapped open, and he stared wide-eyed and hurt back at Estel.   
  
"You liked it! he stated in dismay and betrayal. "You--" he could not go on, and his voice faltered.  
  
What had he expected after all? He was a **slave**. And Estel had never experienced anything like that before, while Legolas himself had endured such games for a long time, now. Even his body had betrayed him again; his twin masters were very apt at coaxing his involuntarily reactions. They had trained him very thoroughly, after all.  
  
How, then, could he blame his human lover for succumbing to the twins' potent game of seduction?  
  
Legolas lowered his lashes, dropping his gaze in shame and despair.   
  
Estel had looked pained and guilty for a moment at his accusation, then he quickly looked away. Now, he vigorously took the cloth and the bowl with water he had used to dampen it, and jumped up, sloshing some water in the process. He set the bowl and cloth away on the night stand and turned around. Facing away from Legolas, he stood there for a moment indecisively, then he grabbed a blanket and turned around again.   
  
"You should sleep now," he grated out curtly, "you must be completely exhausted!" -- And with that, he turned again and walked over to the fireplace, obviously intending to spend the night on the big, soft fur that lay there.  
  
Miserable and dismayed, Legolas watched him go. He turned around and buried his face in one of his arms. He felt as if a big chasm was about to open up right under him, a great, big emptiness, threatening to swallow him whole. Bereft of Estel's closeness, of his support, his love... bereft of the touch of his once so gentle lover...   
  
He couldn't stand it. "Don't go!" he begged, nearly choked and just barely audibly, "Please, don't ..." he could not finish. He wasn't sure if Estel even heard him, or if so, if he would want to return.   
  
Trembling and alone, he lay in bleak despair, without any hope and warmth left to him.  
  
The mattress beside him shifted. Gentle hands touched him, holding him hesitantly.  
  
"I'm here," Estel said. "I will not leave you!"  
  
Legolas let out the breath he had been holding. And yet he trembled under the gentle touch. As grateful as he was, he could not bring himself to turn around immediately.   
  
The touching hands left him. It was as if he was left again to emptiness. But at least the sheets didn't shift again. Estel remained at his side.   
  
Tentatively, Legolas dared to turn around again. He risked a hesitant look at his lover.   
  
The human sat there, face torn and troubled, staring at his hands. "I'm sorry," he finally grated out, "It's just..." he trailed off.  
  
All of a sudden, Estel jumped up again and turned away. "Do you think it was easy?" he spat angrily, fists balled, facing away from Legolas."To see this... what they did to you... and how you reacted..." he trailed off again. Legolas could hear his anger and embarrassment in his voice.  
  
Legolas sat up and looked at him. He didn't answer. He merely watched his young lover's back, mutely and miserably.  
  
Finally, Estel turned around to him again. His face was flushed with pain and embarrassment; but there was still a great amount of anger.  
  
"So maybe I did like it," he admitted angrily, "a little! I didn't want to! I cannot help the reactions of my body! And I've never seen anything like this before! Besides..." He stopped and looked at Legolas accusingly. " **You** did not seem exactly unaffected, either!"  
  
Legolas eyes widened in pain. Then he bowed his head.   
  
"I... I have no control over..." he began, then he paused. Finally, he said quietly: "I cannot help the reactions of my body, Estel. Your brothers are very skilled at forcing the stirring of my flesh upon me. That doesn't mean I like it."  
  
He looked up again, very hesitantly, and met Estel's gaze.   
  
The young man wore a **'there, you see?'** expression, but there was bitterness and shame mixed under it. Legolas could see his warring emotions, reluctant arousal, disgust at himself, and shame.  
  
"Aye!" Estel said, "they are quite skilled at manipulating others. Their ploy succeeded with me, too!"  
  
Legolas held his gaze for a moment, then he closed his eyes and bowed his head again. "I know," he whispered, "forgive me! It is not your fault!"  
  
He swallowed, staring at his hands. "You must be disgusted with me now!"  
  
The mattress shifted again as Estel settled down beside him. Daring a look, Legolas saw his lover shaking his head.   
  
"Believe me," Estel said, "if I am disgusted, it is not with you!" He looked away again, then he turned back to his lover and assured him: "I could never be disgusted with you!" He swallowed hard. His eyes betrayed his emotional upheaval, shame and bitterness warring with guilty desire.   
  
Then, after a moment, his anger and dismay broke through again. "In any case, what does it matter if I like it, anyway? It's not as if we had a choice! We need to play their game, or they will kill you!"  
  
He turned back to Legolas. With fierce determination, he said: "And I will not let that happen, Legolas! I will not have you being killed! I will do anything I need to make sure you stay alive! And if that means we need to play their wretched game, then that's what I will do!" He had tears in his eyes and was trembling in anger.  
  
Legolas believed he had hardly ever seen Estel more beautiful than in his vehement determination.  
  
And yet...  
  
He bowed his head again.   
  
"I do not like being hurt and abused, Estel," he said.  
  
Estel relented. "I know," he said tonelessly,"I'm sorry." He reached out and caressed his lover's shoulders, then his face.  
  
Finally he said: "Look, it's just for a few months! We need to play along convincingly, until they give you to me! Elrohir and Elladan have practically promised to do so when I come of age. And as soon as you truly belong to me, we will leave! We can live with the Rangers, or anywhere we choose. We do not need to play their games anymore, and nobody can tell me how to treat you! We just need to play along until that time!"  
  
Legolas stared at him. He wanted to believe him, oh, so much, and yet...  
  
Estel saw the doubt and hesitation in his eyes. He took his shoulders.  
  
"Please!" he said fiercely. "I need you to trust me! I cannot lose you, and I cannot watch you being killed! I love you! Please, beloved! Trust me! Let me do this!"  
  
Legolas was touched by his fierce pain. He leaned forward and touched their brows together. "I love you, too," he said, "I do trust you, Estel."  
  
Estel's arms came up around him.  
  
"I love you, Little Leaf!" the human whispered, "I love you so much!" He enfolded the Elf in his arms and pressed him against his chest, burying his face in the side of his lover's head. Legolas could feel the wetness where Estel's cheeks touched his own. He heard Estel's fierce, desperate murmur:  
  
"I will take care of you! I cannot lose you! Whatever we are forced to do, I love you. Never doubt that!"  
  
Legolas shivered. Gratefully, he allowed himself to be held and soothed by his lover's reassuring presence, his tight and desperate embrace. He felt secure in Estel's intense dedication. Despite his doubts about their future, and whether Estel's desperate game would play out as well as his young lover hoped, he loved this human and he trusted him with all he was, with his very soul.  
  
Slowly, he allowed himself to relax and to be soothed into a comfortable state of dreaminess.  
  
He barely registered that Estel finally guided him back into the sheets and slipped into the bed beside him. That night, they finally found rest, nestled into each other's arms as if that was enough to shelter them against the world around them./ //_  
  
___________________ 0 ______________  
  
  
_ Legolas woke with a start. Disorientated and confused, it took him a moment to get his bearings. Then it came back to him: the Fellowship; the Quest; the last few days. The wonderful, amazing gift his master had given him this evening. Estel, still holding him in his arms, was fast asleep beside him.  
  
Legolas debated his options. For a few moments, he fought the nearly overwhelming urge to jump up and flee; or at least silently sneak away and relieve the one of the Fellowship who was currently on guard, taking over for the remainder of the night. He needed time to be alone, to think and face his memories.   
  
But Estel wouldn't understand it if he fled him now, especially not after their gentle love-making earlier that night.   
  
Still...  
  
Carefully, Legolas began extracting himself from the human's embrace, trying not to wake the ranger up. He wasn't successful, of course; even deeply asleep Aragorn was much too alert and far too tuned to wake at the slightest sign that something was amiss. When Legolas finally sat up, he found a hand on his arm and looked down into the questioning eyes of his master.  
  
"What is it, Little Leaf?" Aragorn whispered, concerned.  
  
Legolas took the hand restraining him and kissed it.   
  
"It's nothing, My Lord," he replied equally quietly, "I merely need to relieve myself."  
  
Aragorn didn't comment; he just held his gaze a moment. For long heartbeats, Legolas felt the watchful gaze of his master bore into him. Then Aragorn relented. He merely nodded and let him go.   
  
"Don't stay away too long," his master admonished. "We both need our rest, tonight."  
  
Legolas gave him an obedient bow and stood. He didn't look back when he left, out of habit taking his weapons with him.  
  
Outside the camp, finally, blessedly alone, he raised his face to the clouded sky and let the silence of the night sink into him. There were no stars tonight; nothing to give him strength. There was not even a tree close to their campsite anymore.  
  
He felt the memories he tried to avoid, lurking just at the backside of his mind. He knew he could not flee them. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the onslaught and let them come.  
__  
// / That initial night of abuse at the hands of the twins in Estel's presence had only been the first of many more, of course, and only the beginning. During the next few months, they adhered to Estel's plan, since they had hardly any choice about it. The twins successfully defended their decision to let Legolas stay with Estel during the nights against their father, and so the one good thing about that time was that Legolas and Estel could spend much more time openly together, although they still needed to be careful how they behaved.  
  
But of course, the downside was that the twins made good on their threat to teach Estel all about their games, and they were very inventive. They taught him all the devious ways of abuse and torment, of cruel punishments, harsh handling and rough taking, of prolonged arousal and barbed rewards a pleasure-slave could be subjected to, always using Legolas as object of demonstration. They taught their brother about enforced pleasure, the use of toys and of restraints, which necessary preparations should be taken, which elements of caution should be observed to avoid severe injury or lasting damage, and how long any marks or bruising needed to heal. He also learned how to mix pain and pleasure, how to play with anticipation and with fear, and play prolonged games with cruelty and threats. He learned to distinguish between game and punishment, and of course also how to treat any injury and how to soothe. They used Legolas during that time more harshly and more frequently that they had for long years, almost since the first time when he had come into their hands and they began to train him for their cruel purposes.  
  
But that wasn't the worst of it.   
  
It still hurt him to recall that time; not so much because of what the twins – and necessarily, Estel – had done to him, but because of the change it brought about in his lover.  
  
The worst was that during these months, and to his own dismay, Estel discovered that he truly liked the games his brothers taught him.   
  
Of course, whenever he and Legolas were alone and unobserved, and when the twins had finished with their games and lessons for the day, Estel was nothing but tender with his lover, took care to gentle him and soothe him, and treated him with love and with concern. It was mainly Estel's continuing support that made the whole time bearable for Legolas.   
  
And yet it couldn't be denied that Estel acquired a profound taste for games of dominance and cruelty during bed-play, and soon could hardly get enough, even when, given the choice, he would still have preferred to play much gentler games than those preferred by his brothers. He and Legolas even had a few confrontations about that.   
  
One of these Legolas recalled in sharp clarity.  
  
***************  
  
It was the morning after a particularly trying night. Legolas was exhausted. The twins had been excruciatingly hard on him the night before, and used restraints, toys and the whip quite generously. Estel was busy applying some healing salve to Legolas' abused back, kneading the hurting muscles. Elrohir and Elladan had amused themselves – and Estel - with tying their slave up and leaving him restrained for hours, while they played their games. In addition, they had made him ask for punishment, whenever he found himself forced to break one of their rules – for example, not to move, or to keep silent during their torment... and afterwards, they made him thank them for it. It was one of their favorite games.   
  
It was a game that had Estel quite fascinated.  
  
A little concerned, Legolas could feel Estel tracing the whip marks on his back thoughtfully.  
  
"You heal fast," he observed. "They are fading already. I feared they would last longer." He kissed one.  
  
Legolas sighed. "Elladan was careful not to break the skin, although he made sure the welts will last a day," he said. "It's one of his games." He didn't elaborate; Estel knew as much already. If he and his human lover made love today, gently and caring, Legolas would pay for it with pain. Elladan had made sure of that.  
  
Estel nodded.   
  
"Elladan was very harsh with you last night," he said. "I wish he had not gone that far. But you were very brave! I was proud of you."  
  
Legolas froze. "It's not my choice to feel the whip, Estel," he said carefully. "I bear what is done to me as best as I can. Why would that make you proud?"  
  
Estel blushed. He didn't answer. Finally, he said: "It's just... I thought..."  
  
Legolas sat up and turned around to him. "You liked it," he said with dismay. It did not surprise him anymore. Estel's arousal at his brother's cruel games was nothing new. His lover's involuntarily reaction still hurt sometimes, but Legolas had told himself that he could deal with it. At least, as soon as they were alone, Estel was caring and considerate. And yet...  
  
Estel blushed profusely. He looked away. Finally, he drummed up enough courage to meet his lover's eyes again.  
  
"I... Yes, well. Maybe, a little. Some. I mean... I have to admit, some of what Elladan did to you last night was pretty exciting. When he trailed that whip over your skin, without hurting yet, and some of the toys he used... the way you reacted, the way your skin flushed... and when he made you ask for more..."  
  
He swallowed. Reluctantly he admitted: "Some of this was very arousing. I thought, if he had but done a little less, stopped much sooner..."  
  
He bit his lips. His face was very red now. After a moment, he mumbled: "I'm sorry. I just.." He looked away again.  
  
Legolas was silent. After a long moment, he said carefully: "You know I do not like being hurt, Estel."  
  
Estel flushed even harder. He turned back to Legolas again, reached out and took his lover's shoulders.  
  
"I know," he said seriously, meeting his lover's eyes. "I'm sorry. We do not need to do this when we are alone."  
  
It sounded sincere enough, but there was a very small tinge of regret in his voice. And Legolas could see the longing in his eyes.   
  
The Elf took a sharp breath. Probably he should have expected that it would come to this. Still...  
  
Fighting the feeling of betrayal - sharp and painful as freshly broken glass - within his soul, he stated: "But you would like to."  
  
Estel pulled back a little and let go of his shoulders. He looked away. He swallowed.  
  
Finally, after a long pause, he dared to turn back at his lover.  
  
"Well, yes, it would be... I mean, I thought... I thought it would be incredibly exciting if you maybe would do something like that for me, sometimes. I mean, **just** for me." he said. "If you would let me... you know. Do what they do. Some of it. Not all. I would never go that far, of course, if we did something like that together."  
  
Legolas looked at him incredulously. "Doing **what?** " he asked, "Being whipped? Hurt? I told you that I do not enjoy pain! I... I was commanded to suffer the whip, Estel. I did not choose to feel it!"  
  
Estel looked down, refused to meet his eyes.  
  
After a long moment, he looked up again. "I know," he said. "I meant... if you would agree to let me tie you up... maybe spank you a little. Maybe try some toys. I mean... I would be gentle. I would not go that far. I would... take care that you could bear it. You know? I thought if we could try something like that sometimes – not at the command of my brothers, not because we are forced to play along, but freely... if you would let me do that sometimes, as a gift... it would be incredibly arousing!"  
  
Legolas looked at him for a long time. He told himself he should probably be grateful that Estel at least did not simply **demand** that he should serve him in this way, but asked him first. And yet...  
  
And it was true, Legolas reacted much more excitedly than on earlier occasions when the twins had been playing their games. Because now Estel would be there and hold him, and would encourage him during Elladan's and Elrohir's cruel play. Would even tell him how brave he was, how proud he made his lover, and how much Estel loved to see him excited...and at the time, Legolas would take every support he could, too caught in the fog of arousal mingled with pain forced on him to think clearly anymore.  
  
Somehow, Estel being the one who held him, savored his body and his flesh, made a difference.   
  
Still...  
  
Estel took his silence as a good sign. Carefully, very hesitantly, he continued: "You know, I thought about it. We could... maybe we could use code words. Like we do in battle. If you want me to stop, very badly, you could say one word we agreed on. Or, if you wanted me to go more slowly, or do something else, but not stop completely yet, you could say another. And I would make sure that you would not be harmed, and that you found completion, too. Something like that."  
  
Shyly, he added: "Maybe... maybe, this way, you could even enjoy it?"  
  
He looked up. He saw his lover's troubled, defeated face and paled a bit. Hurriedly, he added: "But of course we do not need to do that! We can keep making love as you like it. Sweet and tender." He swallowed and added, as sincerely as he could: "I like that, too!"  
  
Legolas looked at him, sadly, already mourning his sweet and gentle lover. Of course, Estel was young and impressionable, and he was the only human among Elves. It should be no great surprise he would like power-play.   
  
Still, the way Estel worded his suggestion, it sounded very thoughtful and caring. Almost sweet.  
  
And yet...   
  
After a long while, he stated carefully: "You know, I am a slave. If you wish to treat me as one and order me to pleasure you this way, you can always do so. Your brothers won't object, I am sure."   
  
He kept his face carefully blank, although he could not stop the bitterness in his voice.  
  
Estel cringed. For a moment, he looked at him, startled. Then he shook his head. "I know," he said, "but I do not want that! I want you to be my lover, slave only in name! I want you to agree to this and do it for me sometimes, as a gift. Very rarely, just some special play. And I want you to love and desire my company and touch, not fear it!"  
  
He took his lover's face into his hands and kissed him. "I love you, you know! I admit I've been aroused by the games my brothers play, and I find them exciting, but it is **you** I love. And I want you to be happy. With me!"  
  
Legolas looked into his serious, sincere eyes and felt as if he could drown within them.  
  
"I want that, too, Estel," he said. "I will think about it."  
  
Estel kissed him again, and this time, Legolas gave himself completely over to the sensation.  
  
****************************  
  
They made love again, that day, sweet and tender, although Legolas' back and buttocks still hurt from the abuse the night before.   
  
And when they indeed tried some games alone, a few weeks later, Legolas found that Estel was serious with his suggestions. Estel was nothing like his brothers, when they tried harsher play. He was content with much less, he was considerate, and it was very much more power play than cruelty he was interested in. What aroused him mainly was Legolas' submission, his obedience, and not the least, his trust. To his own surprise, Legolas discovered that he found some of this play even enjoyable, although he still much preferred their usual tender sharing.  
  
And if it had been just these few, occasional games, Legolas could have happily adjusted. But of course, with every month that became a more demanding task. For it could not be denied that, while when they were alone Estel was still mostly gentle, caring and considerate, at the same time he was developing a slightly cruel streak, not enough to completely corrupt the character of the young human, but still enough to be somewhat noticeable.   
  
It didn't exactly help that Estel was **encouraged** to act as a harsh and stern master and whenever they were not alone, they needed to observe a strict conduct of dominance and obedience. Nearly imperceptibly, Legolas' gentle lover adopted more and more attitudes of a master and began to **expect** his lover to submit to him, even outside their bed-play. Legolas registered it with dismay, but was powerless to work against it.   
  
Still, Legolas loved him. And at least, this way, Estel was less likely to slip in public.  
  
Besides, when they were alone, Estel was still his caring, gentle lover, and Legolas was happy enough to be with him.  
  
Estel's first aim during that time was still to keep him safe, until the moment when Legolas would finally belong to him alone. The day when he came of age at last, and Legolas and he would finally be bound together. / //_  
  
_ Legolas shook himself out of his bitter musing and forced his mind back to the present. He looked around. He needed to go back; he had been away too long already. Aragorn would be waiting.  
  
Resigned and bitter, he turned around and made his way back to the camp. _  
  
_________________ o _______________  
  
  
_ As he had known, when he returned, his master was still awake. Aragorn had waited for him. He gave his Elf a concerned and questioning gaze when Legolas approached him carefully.   
  
Yet thankfully, he did not comment on the long absence of his slave. Instead he merely opened his arms and let him snuggle up to him again. Legolas hesitated but a moment, then obeyed. Finally he was back nestled in the human's arms. Aragorn started petting him slowly.  
  
When Legolas' obvious tension failed to die down under the soft caresses after a while, he asked quietly: "Bad dreams again?"  
  
Legolas merely nodded.  
  
Aragorn kissed the top of the head that was nestled just under his chin. "I'm sorry, Little Leaf," he said, "I had hoped to give you cause for better ones tonight."  
  
Legolas shivered. He looked up to his master and dared a kiss. "You did," he said. "I'm sorry, My Lord. It is not your fault." Yet he quickly looked down again. "It's just..." he didn't continue.  
  
Aragorn didn't answer. He watched his slave with concern and with grief. He kept quiet, just continuing to pet him.  
  
After a long while, he finally said quietly: "Try to find some rest, anyway, Little Leaf. We have hard days awaiting us. You need it!"  
  
Legolas froze a moment; then he decided not to ask any questions. He only nodded. Held securely by his master, he succumbed to the gentle petting, finally drifting off into his dreams.   
  
He knew he could not escape the memories tonight. _  
  
_____________ o _________________  
  
  
_ Legolas dreamed.... _  
  
  
_// / It was night, nearly the last of the third decade of Echuir(1) and the one before Estel's birthday. Even here in Rivendell, the early spring nights were still rather cold, so the shutters of the room were closed and the room was lit with numerous candles, and a healthy fire in the fireplace offered comfortable warmth. The little table near the fireplace held an inviting flask of strong, scented wine, and a bowl of sweets. Yet Legolas doubted very much that Estel even was aware of these offered comforts. The Elf lay on his lover's bed, watching the young human pace.  
  
Estel was furious. He had just come back from a long discussion with his foster-father, and obviously, it had been a nasty one.  
  
"He will not give you to me!" he suddenly burst out. "He said, he does not trust me to be a stern enough master to you. He thinks that you will seduce me to your will, that I will be wax in your hands and will be easily manipulated at your wish and whim. That I will be far too trusting and too gentle to keep you in line."  
  
He turned around and stared at his lover. "He even threatened to take you away from my brothers and give you over to Erestor!" He sounded both angry and desperate.  
  
Legolas' heart sank. A few weeks ago, the twins had wheedled from a very reluctant and objecting Elrond the agreement to give Legolas to Estel at their brother's coming-of-age ceremony, arguing how well Estel had taken to their lessons and how strictly he now observed the conduct of command toward the slave. They also argued how well the two worked together when in battle, and how useful it would be for Estel to have a loyal and obedient slave guarding his back. Only after long and hard discussions and much intervention from Glorfindel, Elrond had finally agreed. Of course, Legolas had feared that Elrond would find a way to go back on his promise and to take him from Estel at the very last moment, but to hear it was happening now was still a shock. And of course, Elrond had found a way to make it worse, maybe judging correctly that the twins would just continue to share Legolas with Estel, anyway.  
  
At least as long as Estel stayed in Rivendell...  
  
Legolas bowed his head. "Then all has been in vain?" he asked, "The last few months, all that 'training' has been just a sham to drive a wedge between you and me?"  
  
Estel shook his head. His face was grim. "Nay," he said grimly, "for father said if I would prove to him that I can be a harsh master to you, stern and ready to mete out severe punishment when called for, he would still give you to me! He demands a demonstration. He says, only thus can I prove that I am worthy of my forebears, each of them a hardy and strong chieftain, stern and ready to command and enforce his power with harsh judgment."  
  
He spat the last words with disdain. Then he shook his head. "Can you imagine? He demands of me that I take you harshly. In front of his eyes. **That's** what he claims I need to do to prove to him I'm worthy of my name! **Aragorn, son of Arathorn,** chief of the Dunedain of the North, and Isildur's last remaining heir. As if I ever **asked** for that heritage he kept from me for so long!"  
  
His face was torn and upset and his voice shook with disgust.   
He balled his fists. Angrily he turned around again and resumed his pacing.  
  
Legolas looked at him, sadly and yet admiringly. Even in his wrath, Estel was beautiful. It was only fitting that he should be the heir of Isildur, a noble scion of kings and the hope of men if destiny so willed it.   
  
Even if it looked as if he would have to take up that destiny without his lover.   
  
Gently, but sadly, Legolas said: "It is a noble heritage. It fits you."  
  
Estel turned back to him again.   
  
"It does not fit me so much as you do," he said. "I do not care for my noble ancestors, or for my destiny. I only care for **you!** "  
  
Legolas looked at him, wide-eyed and captivated. He did not believe that Estel – no, he corrected himself mentally, **Aragorn** – was truly as unmoved by his own heritage as he just claimed to be; too long had the young human strived to learn where he belonged and from whom he really stemmed. Still, to hear Estel's passionate, heartfelt confession and renewed proof of his love was incredibly endearing.  
  
Even if this was perhaps the last night they would ever share, Legolas would be glad to his last day on Arda that he had known this human's love.  
  
Very quietly, he asked: "So this is goodbye, then?"  
  
Estel stared at him. Then, suddenly, his face adopted a determined expression. He shook his head.  
  
"No," he said decisively, "it's not! I will not lose you about this. I'll do what father says!"  
  
Legolas started. "You would... you would hurt me?" he asked, taken aback, then added carefully: "You would torment me as your father demands?"  
  
Estel's face was grim, but there was a determined light shining in his eyes. He nodded.  
  
"If I have to," he said, "if that is what it takes to make him give you to me for good, then, yes, I will!"  
  
He saw the disbelieving gaze in his lover's eyes, his falling face, and stepped close. He took his reluctant lover by the shoulders.  
  
"Look," he said, "it is easy! We give them a good show! I'll do what father demands and take you harshly during that wretched ceremony of his! You will suffer, yes, but not worse than what you have endured many times already, at the hands of my brothers. And in reward, father will have no choice but to give you to me. He promised after all!"  
  
Legolas was taken aback. "Estel," he objected, "I..." he trailed off and swallowed. Lowering his lashes, he bowed his head. Estel bit his lips. He leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. But he didn't relent.   
  
Quietly, he clarified: "He demands that I take you harshly during the ceremony. You know, hurt you, whip you really badly. Something like that. If I agree to that, he will give you to me." He raised a hand and caressed Legolas' face, then kissed him.   
  
"Look, think of the gain!" he said pleadingly. "One hour of suffering, and after that you will be mine! You will be bound to me, both in law and under the spell, and will be mine for good. And then we can leave! We go to my people, to the Rangers. We can be together any way we want, and as much as we want it. I could take care of you, I could protect you. Nobody could gainsay me if I treated you as my equal! Among my people, I would not need to treat you as my slave. You would be my servant and beloved companion, and I would always have you at my back. You will be able to speak freely. I will take you with me on my travels, to campaigns, to places. We will be fighting side by side! And nobody could hurt you any more, unless I allowed it. Which, of course, I won't."   
  
He kissed him. Tenderly, suggestively, he continued: "And I would not have to share you anymore, or fear that you will be claimed back by my father. I will not have to justify my love for you! I won't have to share you with my brothers anymore. We can make love as often as we want and as we like it. Tenderly, loving, like you like it best. And maybe, sometimes, very rarely, we could do it rough and harshly, too." Another kiss. "You could give me these times as a gift. Something special, just for me. And I could take care that I do not go too far or do anything you cannot bear. And afterwards, I would soothe and pamper you, until you got completely tired of it!" He smiled.  
  
More seriously, he added: "And all that for a hour of suffering and a bit of show! I know this ceremony will be hard on you, but think what we gain by it!"   
  
He kissed his lover's cheeks. "Won't you let me do this?"  
  
Legolas looked up and met his eyes. Despite his doubts, he felt himself taken by the spell woven by Estel's fierce words. He met the human's eyes hesitantly.  
  
"You know of course," he said carefully, "that when I am your slave you are well within your rights to use me any way you want, even if you make me suffer for your pleasure."  
  
Or subject me to punishment I don't deserve, he didn't add. Yet Estel caught his meaning.  
  
He kissed him.  
  
"I know, beloved," he said seriously, "but I do not want to use you! I want you to be my lover and to give me such times freely, as a gift. I do not want you needing to fear our time together. I love you, and I want you to enjoy being with me! I would prefer for you to be my lover, not my slave."   
  
Legolas felt himself melting inside and knew he would do anything for this one human.  
  
"I love you, Estel," he said, "I will do as you wish. I will be honored to belong to you!"  
  
_________________ 0 __________________  
  
  
The scene changed. Legolas found himself tied between two posts, naked, shivering in the coldness of the early spring day. Even more than the cold, he was mortified by the display. Earlier he had been presented to Estel, collared and clad in loose, ceremonial garb, and told to kneel and swear his allegiance to him, since Aragorn, son of Arathorn, formerly known as Estel Elrondion, would be his future master. He did so gratefully, swearing his oath into Estel's hands. Then Elrond commanded him to be stripped and chained between the posts for the ceremony of extension of the spell to his new master. Legolas already knew the proceedings, having endured them twice. Estel – Aragorn – knew them, too. During the last few weeks, Elrond had taken care to teach his foster son everything he knew about drugs, herbs and about the workings of the spell with which Aragorn's future slave would soon be bound to him, and how to cast, feed and extend it at need.  
  
Still, to suffer through this whole ceremony again, with Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan, and Erestor as witnesses, not to mention Glorfindel, was painful enough. And it was not as if he had any choice, or any way of escaping. It would not have needed the chains and several armed guards to keep Legolas subdued and in line.  
  
Elrond droned on, talking of responsibility, of Aragorn's noble heritage and of his destiny, and that as a special gift, the lord of Rivendell had decided to give this slave to him as property, unlimited by the usual rules applying to a Mirkwood hostage. From this day onwards, the slave would belong to Aragorn alone, to do with him whatever he wished, without conditions. He would be free to kill, torture or mutilate him if he so decided, and use him any way he wanted. And nobody could use or touch the slave henceforth without Aragorn's explicit permission, as soon as the spell was extended to him. The ceremony would be held according to the old customs; however, on this special occasion, and since the new master of the slave was human, not an Elf, it had been decided to give the slave special treatment, so he should from the first hour learn his place and understand his complete subjection to his master's power. Therefore he would be taken harshly and be given a small taste of what would await him, should he earn his master's wrath... And more of the same in different wording, all spoken in ancient and ceremonial Quenya, which Legolas had a hard time understanding, since he knew it mostly just as written language.  
  
He looked up, startled, though, as Elrond laid out one special condition of the new arrangement.   
  
  
"And since my foster son," the lord of Rivendell said, "will take this slave with him when he leaves to join his people, and will depend on the slave's loyalty in the wilds, I rule that this time the spell shall be wound tighter. It shall be such that this slave will need his master's attention at least every fortnight, and will not survive much longer than a month without him!"  
  
Legolas swallowed and met Estel's eyes, who looked back at him, similarly startled, but with fierce determination. Estel was set on going through with this. Nothing would deter him now from achieving the extension of the spell to him and gaining Legolas for himself alone. Besides, he and Legolas shared their bedding at least every other day, and even more often when they got the chance. Sharing their bodies at least every fortnight should hardly be a problem for them, then.  
  
Or so Estel thought until he heard the teasing of his brothers.  
  
Elrond had finally concluded his speech and went on to begin the practical part of the ceremony. Legolas shuddered as he was forced to sip the hated **sogo nen aniron(2)** – four sips, again, since Glorfindel had declined his active participation in the ritual this time - and when the even more hated, hideous preparation staff was brought into his vision. He was required to kiss the thing, as sign of his acceptance and agreement to the extension of the spell to his new master – a cruel little idea of Elrond's, no doubt, to further torment and humiliate him.   
  
Then the staff was inserted and the torment began. He refused to show his pain this time, refused to fight, to cry or even whimper; but it was hard, feeling the violation by the thing, then the pain when the salve was rubbed into his hurting flesh. He did not pay attention to the exchange of teasing between Estel and the twins. Only when the hands rubbing the paste into him finally left his body did he return his attention to them. It didn't surprise him much to find that he himself was the object of the twins' obscene and lewd jokes.  
  
Obviously, Elladan and Elrohir teased their human brother about the frequency with which, under the new conditions of the spell, Legolas needed to be taken, and that it might soon exhaust the human to keep up with these demands; they were doubting Estel's interest and potency to fulfill such demanding duties all the time, especially if the excitement and novelty of the new, exclusive relationship wore off, and later, when the human aged.   
  
"Oh, he will be bound to you and you will use him often," Elladan said, "until you tire of him and all this frequent love-play gets old and a burden!" He smirked, "Which of course may happen all too soon, now that you won't share him anymore with us and are unwilling to rely on our loving support! But do not worry, if you ever tire of him and wish to get rid of him for a month or two to follow other pursuits, you may still leave him with us for some time!"  
  
"And if you ever want to get rid of him for good," Elrohir added, "you can always extend the spell to somebody else! 'Twould be such a shame if you let that lovely bed-toy die just because you did not feel up to fulfilling the demands of his body anymore!"  
  
Estel looked exasperated, but before he could say anything, Elladan added: "Or just because you tired of him after some time. It can happen with such frequent use, you know!"  
  
Estel threw them a glare. He could not imagine a situation where sharing pleasure with his lover could ever get too much.  
  
Shaking his head, he said with conviction: "I will never tire of him!"  
  
He looked over to his lover and searched for Legolas' gaze.  
  
At his place beside his twin, Elladan shrugged. "Oh, you say that **now!** But just you wait a few years, when the novelty wears off, and when you have had him often, then you may think differently!"  
  
Elrohir smiled. "I've had a few slaves in my time, and most of them I finally gave away, although a few of them were very lovely..." he added.   
  
Legolas shuddered. He would have liked to ask what became of the **others** , those whom Elrohir **didn't** give away, but he knew he could not dare to speak. And anyway, the nagging fear the teasing of the twins started in his soul was hard enough to bear. He hoped, he knew, no, he was **sure** , that Estel would not simply let him die or bestow him on another if his lover ever tired of him; but for a moment, he could not help the sudden fear, closing like a frozen fist around his heart. He couldn't breathe. Bile rose in his throat. He hardly felt the sharp pain in his anus anymore, nor the burning need caused by the drug forced down his throat, and even the humiliation by the renewed rape by the instrument of torment, and by the whole, debasing situation were hardly important anymore. He tried to banish the sudden doubt, tried to regain his calm. **Nay, Estel would never do that!** \-- but he could not help the doubt nagging at his belief. What if Estel's love for him grew cold, what if his lover's fervour for him ever lessened? What if his human lover one day lost the taste for the pleasures of the flesh, or decided he wanted other fare? Aragorn was the heir of a long line of chieftains. He would need to sire an heir, he would have to marry at some time...  
  
Would he cast Legolas aside then? Was Legolas doomed to die, or beg for his master's attention frequently, at least often enough that he would be spared the more painful and humiliating stages of need?  
  
Again, he tried to banish these treacherous thoughts. There was no need for such doubts; Estel loved him! But he could not completely evict them from his mind. Desperately, he searched Estel's gaze, trying to find reassurance in his lover's eyes.  
  
Some of his inner turmoil must have shown on his face, because he saw Estel looking at him with sorrow and concern. Then, suddenly, the eyes of his human lover adopted a determined expression.   
  
Resolutely, the human exclaimed: "Then I will make sure that doesn't happen!" And with a few steps, he was at the table where the items needed for the ceremony lay ready to be used. He gripped the flask with the **sogo nen aniron**. "It is this drug that causes the need and desire for his master in the slave under the spell, is it not?" he asked, and opened the flask.  
  
And he brought the flask to his lips and drank deeply.  
  
Legolas wanted to scream. He opened his mouth, tried to shout a warning, a desperate: **'Estel! No!!'** \-- but no sound came out. His shout remained unvoiced. For in this very moment, he felt a cold, icy touch at his neck and found himself completely frozen, bereft of any ability to move or to make a sound. Cold, blue light entered his mind , stopped his thoughts, held him trapped and made him an immobile, helpless watcher. Behind him, he heard the harsh, commanding voice of Elrond in an angry whisper:   
  
"Keep silent! You have no leave to speak or interfere!" The command was quiet, well outside Estel's hearing, but oddly clear and sharp, as if it had been spoken directly in his mind. Helpless and mute, Legolas was forced to watch with burning eyes while Estel doomed himself by this one act – and, maybe, even them both.   
  
He did not really know how the drug worked. But it was potent, and it caused the need, the unrelenting addiction to the touch of his masters; Glorfindel had once told him as much. Whatever else Estel had just done to himself, he had made sure that he would from now on be as addicted to this sharing of their bodies as Legolas himself – with all that possibly ensued.   
  
Before him, Estel put the stopper back into the flask and set it back onto the table. He turned back to the chained slave again and gave his foster-father, who stood behind Legolas, a triumphant look.  
  
"I deem it only right that I shall need my slave as much as my slave will need me!"  
  
His gaze found Legolas'. With brimming tears the Elf saw his eyes, full of love, determination, and promise. He wanted to scream, to cry, to shake his head, and yet he could not move.  
  
Behind him, the Lord of Rivendell spoke again. Legolas could hear Elrond's dark satisfaction in his voice, as the cruel Elf-Lord said:   
  
"Well spoken, my son! And now, begin! Show your slave how stern a master you can be and how harsh a punishment awaits should he defy you! Take the whip and prepare him for the extension of the spell to you!"  
  
Estel hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he straighened and spoke the ceremonial words: "I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, formerly known as Estel Elrondion, claim this slave as my own."  
  
And he took the whip from the table and stepped close to the chained slave. Legolas could see the rising need in his eyes, answered by his own; but Aragorn's expression was still dominated by love and regret. Then Estel stood before him and kissed him deeply.   
  
Hugging him for a moment, he whispered: "Be strong, my love. 'Tis only a short time, and then you will belong to me! I do this for us!"  
  
Legolas couldn't answer; the freezing light inside his mind still prevented him from making a sound. He could just give the slightest of nods.   
  
Aragorn stepped back and held the whip to the slave's lips, as was expected as part of this cruel variation of the ceremony.  
  
"Kiss the instrument of your punishment," he commanded harshly, but his eyes communicated to his slave: 'Forgive me!'  
  
Legolas could not answer. He could only follow the command. He kissed the instrument of pain and closed his eyes. He heard Aragorn take a step back.  
  
And it began.  
  
  
As whippings went, this wasn't the worst he had ever received, and while it left him thoroughly hurting, he was not rendered unconscious or even numb with pain. The following rape – by all his former masters, save Glorfindel – was much harder to bear, since it happened in front of the guards and other witnesses. And overall the burning need caused by the drug that made his body react in spite of the pain added to his mortification. When finally Aragorn took him, the last one to spill his seed in him, thereby closing the circle of the ritual and becoming his new master – it was as much a release as was the forming of the bond.   
  
Aragorn collapsed against him, clutching him for support to stay upright, and remained sheathed for some time to make sure his seed could take hold in his new slave's body.  
  
At this point, Legolas was completely exhausted and his mind was dizzy with the pain, the rapes and the effects of the renewed spell. He did not perceive clearly what was happening around him any more.  
  
Finally, Aragorn's body slipped out of him. The chains were released. Aragorn caught him, then he was clad in his garb again, and heard his new master's command: "Carry him to my rooms. He needs to rest. I will join him later!"  
  
He did not recall who brought him to Aragorn's chambers and placed him on the bed. He lay adrift in painful misery. He only woke when finally, Estel was back, cradling him gently and carefully in his arms again.  
  
And to the present day, Legolas could clearly hear his master's words:  
  
"Don't cry so, Little Leaf! It is done, it's over, we did it! We beat them! You do belong to me now! I will take care of you! I will keep you safe! I will love you and hold you dear, and I will protect you! And I will never let you go! You will be mine and will belong to me as long as I live! Nobody shall ever separate us again! I love you! Please, don't cry!" / //_  
  
________________________ o _________________  
  
  
_ Legolas woke with a start. He was lying in his master's arms, on the ground, in the Fellowship's camp, and it was near morning. Aragorn was sleeping. His sleep was unusually deep and sound; not even the slight shivering of Legolas, his moans, the shaking of his shoulders served to wake him up.   
  
Legolas cast a burning gaze over to the lump on the ground he knew to be the sleeping Ring-Bearer. The Hobbit was fast asleep, huddled against the form of the other Hobbits. Legolas suspected he did not need to guess who – or rather **what** – had been sending him all these memories, and made sure that his tossing would not wake anybody, not even Estel, so he could fully suffer them.  
  
Not that poor Frodo was to blame, of course.  
  
Shivering, trying to rein in the turmoil inside himself again, he forced himself to recall the rest of it. He was glad of Estel's arms around him.  
_  
  
// / Aragorn had met Arwen a few days after that ceremony, and fallen in love with her, but that had not diminished his closeness or interest in Legolas. Nor had much come out of that first encounter with Elrond's daughter at the time, for Aragorn and Legolas had left Rivendell soon afterwards. Aragorn had made good his promise. He took Legolas with him when they left, and they went to the Rangers; and among Aragorn's people, Legolas was treated, for the first time in years, just as another comrade, not a slave.   
  
Except when it came to his own master.  
  
Aragorn kept his word. He loved and cherished Legolas. He never gave him up. He took care of his needs. He took him with him on his travels, nearly everywhere he went, and he was always mindful of his health. He treated him – most of the time – more as a comrade or maybe as a free, trusted servant, than as a slave. He was as ready to take risks for him, even to die for him at need, as Legolas was for Estel. After a few years, he even went so far as to take Legolas with him on a mission to Mirkwood, since he well knew how much his slave desired to see his home and family again. Of course, he risked his head during that visit, and nearly lost it, too, since Thranduil did not take favorably to hearing that his son had become this human's slave. But Legolas protected Estel against him, and Legolas' father and his master separated if not on friendly, then at least on polite terms, and in an uneasy peace. And yet, a few years later, Aragorn risked it all over again, and a few times more afterwards, just to give Legolas another chance to see his home.  
  
Aragorn also defended Legolas against the twins, even against his foster-father, and against the other Elves of Rivendell or of Lothlorien, and would let nobody touch him or do him harm. Indeed, he showed him the same fierce and unerring loyalty Legolas felt for him.  
  
And yet.  
  
Aragorn's determination that they should be master and slave only in name and law did not survive the first year among the Rangers. It died under the strain of Aragorn's new responsibilities as chieftain and leader of his people.   
  
Legolas could not blame him. The sheer needs of taking command of a whole group of people, of giving orders – and expecting them unquestioningly followed, if an decision was made – and of enforcing his authority at need even with punishment or with harsh judgments soon became ingrained in Aragorn's very thoughts. He still asked for - and often enough followed - his slave's advice, as he did with his Rangers, but when he gave a command, he expected obedience and would not accept any defiance. It was a necessity most of the times, but it did not leave their relationship unchanged. And all too soon, perhaps inevitably, it reflected on their bed-play, too.  
  
Nearly imperceptibly, Aragorn began _thinking_ of himself as Legolas' master, and began expecting his slave to attend and serve his needs. Soon enough, he demanded Legolas' submission to him as his _right_ as naturally as if there had never been any question about that.  
  
But that wasn't the worst. After all, Legolas was _used_ to being a slave and could adapt. And Aragorn still treated him much better than the twins had done.  
  
The worst was that soon and to his own alarm and dismay, Estel discovered that he was not content with gentle love-play anymore. That he could find no satisfaction – and, after a while, not even completion - if their bed-play did not include some harshness and at least a small amount of cruelty and painful games. All too soon, he found he could not even get excited enough anymore to take his slave without inflicting pain on him.  
  
But without being taken by his master, Legolas would die.  
  
Aragorn fell into despair, then, fearing himself and being filled with self-loathing and disgust. And Legolas did all he could to soothe him and reassure him of his continued love and acceptance.  
  
He never told him what he knew. Never revealed to him the reason why Aragorn's needs became so twisted and turned darker and darker, why Aragorn's taste for cruelty seemed to increase with nearly every year.  
  
For Legolas loved Estel to the very core of his being, and he could never bring himself to tell his lover that it had been Aragorn's very noblesse, his very wish to assure his loyalty to his beloved and save him from his fears of being cast aside, that had condemned them both to this bleak despair. And he could never bring himself to tell Estel how cruelly they both had been betrayed, and how evilly the very Elf Estel knew as his benefactor, the one who had taken the role of Estel's father for such a long time, had twisted his own foster-son's love and commitment for his own purposes into this dark and cruel mockery of what it once had been. / //  
  
_ Huddled into his sleeping master's arms, Legolas stared with burning, tearless eyes into the nearing dawn.  
  
________________ o __________________ 

\-- End of Part VI --   


\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
_  
(1) _Echuir:_ _ Early spring, one of the six elvish seasons, lasting from first of February to the 26t of March. The last night of the third decade would be the last night of February, the 28th in our modern calendar. In he Elvish calendar, every month had thirty days. _  
  
(2) _Sogo Nen Aniron – Sindarin_ : _Drink (of) Water (of) Desire.


	38. Musings

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter I am directly lifting dialogue both from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of the Rings (Extended Edition) and from J.R.R. Tolkien's book "The Lord of the Rings" again. Original dialogue will be marked with proper reference notes. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: Occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
________________________________  
  


\-- Part VII: Crossing The Mountains -- 

   
**XXXVI. Musings (1)**  
  
  
Boromir of Gondor stared sourly into the growing dawn. He was cold, he was tired, and he felt unjustly treated. This was the third night in a row that he'd had to take one of the watches. And even though he normally wouldn't mind so much, and was completely willing to do his fair share of duties for the Fellowship, he wasn't prepared to do so just to give that Ranger and that Elf a chance at an undisturbed romp in the bushes.  
  
At least, Aragorn could have had the decency to take one of the watches before he went and took his pleasure of his little bed-toy. After all, this was what he had forced _Boromir_ to do the night before last. But no! The Ranger had insisted that he and his bed-toy couldn't be inconvenienced by little things like that, and so the Dunadan had simply left his share of the duty for the others.  
  
Angrily, Boromir cast a look back at the camp to the two lumps he knew to be the sleeping forms of the Elf and the Ranger. At least Legolas lay still now. From the beginning of Boromir's watch – and maybe even before, probably since the two got back to the camp earlier last night – the Elf had tossed and turned, sometimes even quietly whimpered, so much that Boromir had wondered why it did not wake the Dunadan the Elf lay nestled against.   
  
But the Northener had been obviously undisturbed by the Elf's apparent nightmares. It seemed for all his claims to care, the moment the other man got his pleasure, he could sleep like a stone.   
  
Once or twice during his watch Boromir had been close to waking the Elf himself. But Legolas slept closely entwined in his master's arms, and Boromir doubted very much his interference would be welcome – neither to the Elf nor to his master.  
  
Boromir himself had not slept well this night; in fact, he had hardly found any rest at all. When Aragorn had left the camp with his bed-toy the evening before, it was all he could do to force himself not to follow them. Black jealousy had kept him awake and tormented him with images of the Elf in the other man's arms, and it didn't help that he knew the Ranger's attentions were more welcome than his own. He had found no rest until the two were back, two whole hours later; then he had turned around, determined to ignore them and find sleep. But only shortly afterwards, he had woken again when Legolas got up and left the camp, only to return much later. And shortly afterwards, it had been Boromir's turn to take the watch, anyway.  
  
Boromir cast a last dark look at the entwined pair, then turned around again. He resumed his brooding, staring into the slowly growing light.  
  
He did not understand that Elf at all. He recalled again the way he had found him and Aragorn only five days ago – the Elf half-naked, hands bound, splayed over his master's knees and being brutally beaten. Of, course, the punishment of servants and subordinates was quite a common thing, even in Gondor, and a beating, even a brutal one, was well within the range of what Boromir was used to. There had been times, once or twice and not that long in the past, when his own father had given _him_ such a beating. And Legolas was a _slave_. That Aragorn subjected him to such harsh punishment was in itself nothing to be alarmed about, although the Ranger never had disclosed what the slave had done to warrant such harsh penance. Still, the man's handling of the Elf had been brutal enough. And the cruel ritual Aragorn had forced on his slave afterwards had hardly been any better.  
  
Legolas had been very subdued the following day, and even Aragorn's noble gesture of defending him against the Dwarf had not managed to raise his spirits. The following night, as far as Boromir could tell, the Elf had avoided his master. And yet, just the day after that he had followed him around like a small puppy dog again, hoping for a pat. When Aragorn had sent his slave to Boromir that night anyway, the Elf had clearly been subdued again and less than happy to follow the command.  
  
Boromir had been gentle. He had done his best to show the Elf that there were alternatives to his cruel and abusive master; that if Legolas would just come to him out of his own will, he would be only too happy to protect him from that Ranger of the North. He had even made it clear that he would be happy to keep Legolas exclusively and not share him with anyone.  
  
He had gone out of his way to make the Elf enjoy his touch and desire him.  
  
And yet, as soon as their bed-play was over, Legolas meekly kept to himself and avoided him the whole following day. Of course, he had avoided Aragorn, too, probably fearing the palpable anger and jealousy of the man; but in the evening, the Ranger only had to snap his fingers, and the Elf was back within his arms, happily nestled against him, and Boromir was just so much empty air.  
  
And yet, after he and his master got back from their romp, the foolish Elven slut had nightmares, whatever the cause.  
  
_Was this so-called 'heir of Isildur' so much preferable to him, then, abusive as that excuse for a noble was, than the oldest son of the ruling Steward of Gondor?_  
  
Angrily, Boromir looked back over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. He could see Legolas stir, then gently disentangle himself and get up. Then the Elf bowed down again and tucked his still sleeping master back under the blanket. Aragorn just grumbled something unintelligible and burrowed himself deeper under the cloth; despite his usual alertness, the Ranger stayed asleep.  
  
Legolas straightened, saw Boromir watching him and gave the Gondorian a nod. He grabbed his weapons and both his and his master's water skin and left the camp in the direction of a water hole the Fellowship had found the evening before. Apparently, it was his task to get supplies for breakfast this morning.  
  
Boromir pursed his lips. Then he got up and followed the Elf. He did not go the whole way to the water hole, though, but lingered just a few steps outside the camp.  
  
He would not abandon his post; but it would be of best if not everybody heard what he would have to say once the Elf got back.  
  
_Maybe it was time to remind that little slut that there was still a bargain to keep, and that he would not get rid of Boromir so easily._  
  
_____________ o _____________  
  
  
When Legolas returned to the camp, he found his path blocked by Boromir.   
  
The man of Gondor lingered some ten steps outside the camp, a little out of sight from the Fellowship, among a few bushes. At first, Legolas thought the _Adan_ had sought his solitude to relieve himself, so he just gave him a polite nod and meant to pass him quickly; but instead of nodding back and letting him pass the Gondorian stepped into his way.   
  
Legolas frowned.  
  
The man of Gondor gave him a leer. "Good morning, little Elf," the Adan said, "did you have a good night?"  
  
Legolas was taken aback. Even without the provocative and belittling address, he wouldn't have liked the Adan's tone, and the smile of the man and his whole posture was unsettling enough. However, Boromir had not attacked him, yet, and while Aragorn had allowed him to defend himself, Legolas did not believe that a provocative posture alone counted as an excuse to fight the Gondorian. So he forced himself to give a polite bow.  
  
"Thank you and a good morning to you, too, My Lord," he said. "I cannot complain. And yourself? Did you have a good night?"  
  
Behind the man, Legolas could hear the quiet noises of the Fellowship slowly stirring and the camp waking. He was relieved. Maybe, with some luck, he could end this before it got ugly...  
  
Unfortunately, the man of Gondor had other ideas.   
  
Boromir narrowed his eyes. _Did that Elven slut mean to mock him?!_ He cocked his head and gave the Elf an unseemly gaze.   
  
"Actually, no, because I spent it lonely," he said. "I could have done with someone to warm me up."  
  
Legolas did not know what to say. He stayed mute for a moment, hoping the Gondorian would step away and let him pass. But of course, that was too much to hope for.  
  
The Elf's apparent lack of reaction rankled Boromir. He took a step closer.   
  
"Well, I hope you enjoyed being in your master's arms last night, little Elf," he said. "But tonight, it will be my turn again. And I'm looking forward to it!"  
  
Legolas swallowed. He still didn't know what to say; after all, he could hardly deny the man of Gondor! He bowed his head. Then he looked up again, relieved, and in the same instant Boromir felt a heavy hand settling on his shoulder.  
  
"He will be with you again tomorrow night, Boromir," Aragorn said calmly. "Tonight he will have for himself."  
  
Angrily, Boromir spun around. "Oh?" he said, "And why, pray, should that be? Did _you_ wait another night before you took your Elf to bed after he was with me?"  
  
Legolas paled. Apparently, Boromir was not himself, too angry to think clearly. If the two men started fighting over him, that fight could easily end in bloodshed. And Aragorn was weaponless; he had left his swordbelt in the camp. Carefully, Legolas readied himself to interfere.   
  
But Aragorn stayed calm. "I told you I would take care that Legolas wasn't exhausted," he said. "If we do this, giving him every third night for himself sounds reasonable enough. But if you think we should settle for a _less_ frequent arrangement, I am willing to listen."  
  
Boromir just stared at him angrily for another moment, then he shrugged. "Whatever," he said, "just remember to keep the bargain!"  
  
And with that he stepped around Aragorn and walked back to the camp without another word.  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped a bit. He looked at his Elf.  
  
Legolas bowed his head.  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I'm sorry, Little Leaf," he said. "I still think that this bargain is for the best. And whatever Boromir thinks, we should not plan too much ahead, anyway; soon enough, the Fellowship may find themselves hunted, and who knows what will happen then?"  
  
He hesitated a moment, reaching out and touching his Elf's shoulder. He feared the reproachful look when Legolas raised his eyes again. But when the Elf looked up at him, his expression was remarkably calm.  
  
"I know, my Lord," he said. "You explained it to me, and I do understand. Still, I do not enjoy it."  
  
Aragorn caressed his face. "I know, Little Leaf. Me neither," he said. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
  
Regretfully, Legolas shook his head. He avoided his master's eyes. "I'm afraid I will find not much rest for some time, Aragorn," he said. "I seem to be... haunted by bad dreams of late."  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes, then bowed his head. "I had hoped to give you better ones, last night, _melethron_ ," he said. "Do you think it is the ring?"  
  
It sounded oddly hopeful, and he seemed relieved when Legolas nodded.  
  
Then the Elf looked up and searched his eyes. He took his master's hand between his own and kissed it. Looking at Aragorn, he said very seriously:  
  
"Last night, you gave me a great gift, My Lord. Thank you."  
  
Aragorn actually blushed. "It was my pleasure, Little Leaf," he said. "I just wished..." he didn't continue. His face looked wistful.  
  
Legolas kissed his fingers again. "I know, Estel," he said gently, "Thank you."   
  
Then he let him go. "If you will excuse me, the Hobbits wait for the water..."  
  
And with a last respectful bow, he stepped around his master and returned to the camp, leaving Aragorn where he stood, and somewhat puzzled.   
  
_______________ o ________________  
  
  
An enticing smell of roasted sausages wafted over to Aragorn from the little fire where Sam was making a meal. The smell mixed well with the well refined smoke of pipeweed of Gandalf's and Frodo's pipe, not to mention his own, and Aragorn felt his mouth water. He stretched, relaxing and enjoying the shining sun and the peaceful noises of the Fellowship around him.  
  
Aragorn sat on one of the boulders, watching Boromir spar with Merry and Pippin. Apparently, the Gondorian had been forgiven by the Hobbits for his role in the humiliating bargain he and Aragorn had struck concerning Legolas, for today, Merry and Pippin had asked to take up their sword-fighting lessons again. Aragorn was sure that this change of mind on the side of the Hobbits was largely due to Legolas himself, who had quietly encouraged the Hobbits to mend the gaps within the Fellowship.   
  
In any case, there had been another quiet conference between the Hobbits and the Elf during their march this morning, and only afterwards had the two Hobbits asked Boromir for more lessons with the sword. Aragorn was equally aware that _he himself_ had not yet been forgiven, for all four Halflings still treated him with substantially more distance than they had done before his and Legolas' secret came out. He was sure that this hesitation was in no way Legolas' doing; while the Elf had avoided him the day before, today he had given the Hobbits no indication that he feared or was trying to avoid his master. But apparently it wasn't enough. Aragorn suspected that nothing he or Legolas could say or do would earn him back the trust the four Hobbits had shown him after their first journey from Bree to Rivendell together. But then, it was probably too soon to expect that much. He just hoped he could regain their full trust with time.  
  
He cast a quick look over his shoulder to the place where Sam and Frodo quietly chatted with each other, apparently joking about their eager cousins, eagerly exchanging blows with Boromir. Behind them, watching out for the Fellowship, stood his Elf. Legolas looked out over the plains around them, making sure no possible threat could take them unawares. The Elf had volunteered for this duty, and Aragorn suspected he had done so because this way he could keep to himself.  
  
Inwardly, Aragorn sighed. At least, Legolas did not seem as subdued today anymore by Aragorn's decision to keep to the bargain. He seemed to have resigned himself to his master's logic, although he still didn't like it. The Elf had kept to himself most of the day, but he had not seemed as subdued or afraid to Aragorn as yesterday, just deep in thought. Apparently whatever nightmare had been haunting him last night was still troubling him. Briefly, Aragorn mused if there was anything he could do to cheer him up, but he suspected it would be best if he just left him alone for a while.  
  
Giving his Elf a last, tender look, Aragorn turned back and concentrated on the events before him again. Pippin parried another sequence of blows the way Boromir had taught him, and Aragorn felt compelled to remind the Halfling shortly: _"Move your feet!_ "(2)  
  
The Hobbit was so immersed in his training that he did not even hesitate, he just complied. Merry, beside him, applauded.   
  
"You look good, Pippin!"  
  
Pippin smiled. "Thank you!"   
  
Boromir turned to Merry and attacked. "Two, One, Five," he reminded, counting the blows and parries. He nodded appreciatively, when the Hobbit caught all his blows with his little sword. "Faster!" he commanded, and quickened his pace.  
  
The Hobbits were eager to learn, Aragorn noticed, but they still would take a long time before they could hope to defend themselves in a real fight. He just hoped they would have that much time to learn. He had an uneasy feeling about the near future, and it strengthened with every night. He was astonished they had had that much luck up until now.  
  
From the place nearby where Gandalf sat on a boulder, enjoying his pipe, he could hear the voice of the Dwarf:  
  
"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!"  
  
His voice sounded somewhat petulant. Ever since the confrontation with the Elf four days ago, Gimli had been mostly ignored by most of the Fellowship, especially the Hobbits and Aragorn. Gandalf had taken care to treat him fairly, and Boromir had exchanged a word or two with him, but mostly he had been avoided. Legolas had taken special care to be as far from the Dwarf as he could at all times. So had the Hobbits. If Boromir – and to some extent, Aragorn – were forgiven by the four Halflings for their treatment of the Elf, clearly, _Gimli_ was _not_. At least not yet.  
  
As for the Dwarf's suggestion...  
  
Aragorn felt a chill run down his spine. _Moria!_ He had none but ill memories from his one and only venture into the abandoned mines, and even though the Dwarves since then had sent an expedition to recolonize that place, he could not shake the feeling that their attempt had gone ill. His rangers had heard nothing of the Dwarven colony, and Gimli's own company had told at the council back in Rivendell that they had lost all contact with their kin in Moria long ago. Even more, Aragorn could not shake an ill feeling when he thought about taking that path. He just _**knew**_ that if they went that way, something would go terribly wrong.  
  
**_Great dark wings, made of shadow... the face of his Elf, white as snow, paler than he had ever seen him, frozen in utter terror... Fire and shadows reaching for them... the company, caught, no way out, running for their lives... Certain death for one of them, Gandalf's pale face, urging them to fly... He himself, for moments unable to move, frozen in horror... the feeling of loss, so overwhelming that he thought he would surely break... Boromir shouting his name, urging him to move on, while he stood frozen..._**  
  
Aragorn shook his head free of the images. He had no idea if they were true foresight or images planted in his mind by his own fears. He only knew that he was very sure he did _not_ want to go through Moria again. And Legolas...  
  
He cast another quick look over his shoulder to his Elf. The first time he had gone through Moria had been during one of the times when he had left Legolas behind, securely in the care of his rangers, namely Halbarad. It had been an ill trip, and he had been lucky to escape the Black Pit alive at that time. He did not care much for the memories. He could only imagine what the darkness of the mines, together with the lack of every connection to living nature, might do to his Elf.  
  
To his relief, he heard Gandalf answer the Dwarf calmly: "No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."  
  
Aragorn saw Legolas' shoulders relax a bit and nodded to himself. He concentrated back on Boromir and his eager students again. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Legolas changed his place, taking a post at the other side of the camp; but before he could look at him, he was distracted by a loud cry of pain.  
  
Merry let his sword fall and shook his hand. Boromir exclaimed alarmed: "Sorry!"   
  
Aragorn shrugged. Such things happened during training with weapons; they would get used to it. He wasn't prepared for the Hobbit's reaction, though.  
  
Without further warning, Merry kicked Boromir in the shins. Pippin joined in with a loud "Get him!", and in the next instant, the two Hobbits were upon the surprised Gondorian, kicking his legs out under him and holding him to the ground. There was a loud commotion with yells of "For the Shire!" and "Hold him! Hold him down, Merry!"  
  
Boromir could probably have himself successfully defended against the attack, except he was laughing so hard. So did the Hobbits.  
  
Aragorn laughed, too. After all the pain and discord of the last few days, it was like a deliverance to watch these three engaging in their idle antics and carefree mock-fight.   
  
He took another pull on his pipe, then he finally decided to rescue his fellow human. He stood up. "Gentlemen, that's enough!" he declared commandingly, stepping close and bowing down to pluck the Halflings off Boromir.   
In the next moment, he felt his legs pulled out under him and fell with a surprised yell, landing unceremoniously on his back. The apples he had stored in the bags of his coat for later consumption rolled about everywhere. The Hobbits gave a triumphant shout, and Boromir was laughing.  
  
Aragorn resigned himself to his fate and joined in their laughter. For a moment he just lay there and let them gloat. He nearly expected his Elf to come help him up, amused at his master's misfortune. When no help of the sort was forthcoming, he got up on his elbows and looked, somewhat irritated, over to his slave.  
  
Legolas was not looking at them. He stared intently at a dark patch at the sky, something like smoke flying in the wind, except it seemed rapidly to be getting closer. Aragorn was instantly alarmed. His tension transferred itself to Boromir, who followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes.  
  
But it was Sam who asked: "What is that?"  
  
Legolas didn't answer. He stared with drawn brows at the shape.   
  
The Dwarf gave the Elf a doubtful look and shrugged. Casting an uninterested gaze into the direction of the shape, he said: "Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud!" And he turned around.  
  
But Boromir had gotten up now and objected: "It's moving fast. Against the wind!"  
  
Aragorn got up. "What is it, Little Leaf?" he asked quietly.  
  
Then Legolas shouted: "Crebain, from Dunland!" and Aragorn felt himself react instantly and before his mind even had time to register. He grabbed his sword and his things, yelling "Hide!" and was on the run for cover, gesturing to Boromir and yelling at him to do the same, before he knew what he was doing. Without once looking at him, Legolas did the same. They acted as they always had in battle, as two parts of a whole. All around them, the Fellowship followed their example, for once not questioning but just trusting in their judgment. Boromir and his students found a cave to cover them, and Sam killed the fire. Gandalf was already hidden, and so was the pony. Aragorn made it under a overhanging rock with Frodo and Sam, mere moments before the hateful beast passed over them with terrible noise.  
  
It lasted only moments, but these moments were like a small eternity for Aragorn. He was reminded of his nightmares.   
  
_**Dark wings, danger, the Fellowship hunted... urgency, no time to rest or to take care of his Elf...**  
  
'At least I have made sure Legolas will be safe!'_ he thought grimly. _'It will not happen this way, now!'_  
  
Still, he rolled his eyes at their misfortune as the host of villain birds passed over them. When the birds were gone, flying back to the south, a very subdued company scrambled back out of their hide holes to gather around the wizard.  
  
Gandalf's face was grim. "Spies of Saruman," he stated grimly. "The passage south is being watched!" He looked up to the mountain. "We must take the pass of Caradhras!" (3)  
  
Aragorn caught a glimpse of Legolas' face, where he stood behind the wizard. It was pale and troubled. Aragorn sighed. _Passing over the mountains meant passing though the Golden Wood._ And after everything that had happened – including the near duel between Legolas and Gimli - _he_ was not very keen to take the path through Lothlorien either.  
  
But there were hardly any alternatives. At least, he mused, now Legolas did not need to fear anymore that his and his master's secret would be revealed. Stoically, he shrugged and started to pack his belongings for the long, hard march over the mountain passes.  
  
Boromir looked troubled. Finally he spoke up. "I would still advise us to go south and stay west of the Misty Mountains," he said, "and take our chance with the Horse Lords on our way to my city. I do not see why we have to take the mountain road just because of a flock of birds, whether they be spies of Saruman or not.   
But if we have to go over the mountain, then I will add a word of advice, if I may."  
  
He looked sceptically at the threatening heights, white and snowy as they rose before them.  
  
"I was born under the shadow of the White Mountains and know something of journeys in the high places. We shall meet bitter cold, if no worse, before we come down on the other side. It will not help us to keep to secret if we are frozen to death. When we leave here, where there are still a few trees and bushes, each of us should carry a faggot of wood as large as he can bear (4)."  
  
Sam looked at him approvingly, then he patted the pony. "And Bill could take a bit more, too, I think," he said.   
  
Gandalf looked at them grimly and sceptically. Then he shrugged. "Very well," he said. "But approve of it or not, from now on we must take pains to keep secret. We must not use the wood – not unless it is a choice between fire and death(5)."  
  
Boromir made a face at his comment, but then he merely shrugged and turned around, wandering off to gather firewood. The others followed. Soon enough the Fellowship was scattered, busy following Boromir's advice.  
  
It was there among the bushes that Boromir got the chance to confront Legolas again.  
  
"So," he challenged, "it seems that now we will have to postpone my next chance to be with you for a few days. Does that pleases you, sir elf?"   
  
Legolas turned around to him watched him calmly. But instead of showing fear or even some disgust, the Elf merely met his gaze and studied him.   
  
When he didn't reply, Boromir finally said: "Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"  
  
Legolas looked at him serenely. "What would you have me say, my Lord?" he asked. "Two days ago I was first sent to you, and you made it easy for me by being gentle. It was a gift that you made me and I was grateful. You gave me reason to hope that this would be easier for me than I had first expected. Have I been mistaken? Do you wish to take that gift back from me now?"   
  
Boromir stared at the Elf disbelievingly. "You do not wish to share yourself," he said, "and yet you agree to it so easily? or do you look forward to it?" he asked, somewhat taken aback by the calm reaction. "If your master truly cared about you, why would he agree to share? If you were mine..."  
  
Legolas took a step closer. _"Yet I am not,"_ he said. "I belong to my Lord Aragorn, and I am his to command. Would it truly please you if I changed my loyalties that easily?"  
  
The man narrowed his eyes, prepared for an attack. But the Elf just shrugged.  
  
Finally he said calmly: "My master has agreed to keep the bargain, Boromir. He is a man of his word. Even if our next chance to be together be delayed, you need not fear that you will be deprived of me."  
  
It sounded bitter, though, and resigned, but calm nonetheless.   
  
Boromir shook his head. He reached out and touched the Elf's arm.  
  
For a moment, he thought Legolas would avoid his touch again, and truly the Elf shivered a bit, but this time he did not sidestep him and simply endured it. Yet he quailed under the touch, and frustrated by the lack of welcome, Boromir let his hand fall.  
  
"I do not understand you," he said hotly, "Nor this Ranger of yours!" He shook his head. "I desire you, and I look forward to having you again, though I would like it even more if you would come to me willingly! But I will not pass up the opportunity to have you anyway. You are too good a prize to pass up, and that ranger of yours is a fool to share you! Even though his foolishness will be my gain."  
  
Legolas studied him calmly. "It is not my place to judge my master's decisions," he said mildly, "and whatever his reasoning, you will have me again as soon as opportunity allows. That was my Lord Aragorn's decision. For now, My Lord Boromir, I suggest we postpone this conversation and continue the gathering of wood, since we need march on, soon."  
  
And with that, he gave Boromir a last, respectful bow and turned, leaving the man standing where he stood, confused and seething.   
  
Boromir let him go. But his eyes followed the elf for a long time, and when the Fellowship marched on in the afternoon, they hardly left him.  
  
___________________ o __________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) In this chapter I am diverging from both Book-and Movie-canon concerning the time frame. Bookverse, the Fellowship left Rivendell on December the 25th, reached Eregion (or Hollin) on January the 8th, the Pass of Caradhras three days later on January the 11th and the Walls of Moria at January the 12th. They were traveling for twenty days until they reached the mines. Movieverse, the time frame is the same, only happening two month earlier. But for my purposes, I need the Fellowship a few days longer in Eregion until they try to pass Caradhras. So they are abroad at least 25 days until they reach the mines. Please bear with me!  
  
2) The following dialog – save Aragorn's address of Legolas a little later - is directly lifted from Peter Jackson's movie „The Fellowship of the Rings", Extended Edition, Disc 2. But of course, I added my own interpretation to the scene, here!  
  
3) Here ends the direct quoting of the movie.  
  
4) This sentence is directly lifted from J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, HarperCollinsPublishers, Paperback edition London 1995, page 280.  
  
5) Sam's and Gandalf's sentences here are lifted from the same page, but adapted for my use. The original reads: _"'And Bill could take a bit more, couldn't you, lad?' said Sam. The Pony looked at him mournfully. 'Very well,' said Gandalf. 'But we must not use the wood – not unless it is a choice between fire and death.'"_


	39. Finding Resolve

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : Hot Man/ Elf sex. And **Drug-abuse** (in flashbacks only). _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
________________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXXVII. Finding Resolve**  
  
  
The Fellowship set out again. They made good speed at first; soon they discovered the remains of the old trading path up the mountain and to the pass, although it was largely covered with undergrowth and hardly recognizable at some places. Soon, though, the terrain became steep and difficult, the path became winding and twisting, and here and there large rocks had fallen from the mountain and had made their way down the mountainside, ending up blocking the road. Then they had to tortuously seek a way around them.  
  
The company filed out around the terrain. Gandalf took the head, searching the path, often accompanied by Gimli and also by Legolas, who took it upon himself to scout ahead, search for a way around a rock here, climb a height there and look out for the company. When the Elf just walked with the others for some time, he stayed close to the Hobbits and the pony.  
  
The Hobbits walked in their usual order: Frodo walked closest to Gandalf, then followed Sam, always faithfully close to his master and leading Bill, the pony; behind them came Merry and Pippin, always inseparable and chatting. When Legolas kept the Halflings company, they took care to keep him in their middle as if to guard him against the Dwarf and the two men. But often enough, Legolas sought his solitude, busying himself with watching out for the spying birds or for other enemies, scanning their surroundings as well as the sky.  
  
His actions weren't unobserved. Behind the Hobbits followed Boromir, brooding, his eyes hardly straying from the Elf, following Legolas' every move.  
  
Aragorn took the rear. Since the path was long and winding he had chances enough to see Boromir's face and see what the other man was doing.  
  
His eyes narrowed. Following Boromir's gaze to Legolas, he could see that his Elf was only too aware of the constant scrutiny of the man of Gondor, and quite uncomfortable about it.  
  
  
Aragorn stiffened and quickened his steps. _What was that arrogant Southerner thinking?! Just because Aragorn had agreed to keep to their arrangement, that did not give this insolent Steward's son the right to harass his Elf! Maybe it was time he told the other man where to keep his leering eyes. He would place his fist in that face, he would..._  
  
Then Legolas looked around and met his master's gaze and Aragorn could see his pale, troubled face, watching him with some alarm.  
  
He stopped and bowed his head, fighting to quell his jealousy. Bitterly he reminded himself that it had been _**his**_ decision, after all, that had landed them all in this mess. And even more unfortunately, Boromir wasn't the only one Legolas had good reasons to avoid.  
  
Bitterly, Aragorn recalled how devastated Legolas had been last night after their wondrous sharing of pleasure when he discovered that all their tenderness, all the sweet caresses they had shared had hardly made his partner stir. How he had then in his desperation begged for his master's familiar cruelty, just to bring Aragorn to completion. And how only then Aragorn's own, treacherous body had finally reacted.  
  
Aragorn had been gentle. He had hardly done as much as what he would usually subject Legolas to during his games. And yet... even so, and as wonderful as their lovemaking had been before that sorry end, Legolas still had had nightmares afterwards, even though – or maybe, _because_ – he spent the night in the arms of his master.  
  
Regretfully, Aragorn recalled that night a few weeks ago, early in the Quest, when he had found Legolas whimpering, deep in dreams, begging him – begging _Estel!_ \-- not to hurt him anymore. How guilty and stricken he had felt as he held his Elf in his arms. How helpless he had felt when he had made his promise to be as gentle as he could.  
  
And yet. Even now his mind called up sweet images of his slave, bound, waiting submissively whatever torture his master would choose to subject him to and whatever toy he would choose to use on him this time. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a nasty little voice reminded him that they were going to Lothlorien. _Well guarded borders... comforts... and, most importantly, **privacy** to use his Elf thoroughly, in any way he wished... They would be undisturbed. They'd need not fear interference of the Fellowship. There would be toys... restraints... maybe, Galadriel and Celeborn would offer them Aragorn's old, **special** talan..._  
  
Aragorn's mouth went dry and he quickly shook his head as if he could banish the images that way. He tried to take his mind from them, tried to concentrate on his path. But they persisted.  
  
Forcibly, he tried to recall last night. The wonderful tenderness he and Legolas had shared. Legolas' adoration. His shining eyes... _what a precious, unbelievable gift Legolas had given him!_  
  
Then he recalled his little fantasy afterwards, of Legolas being made to take him, but this time hurting from a thorough spanking, wearing trappings that just allowed him to find completion when he received permission to remove them, and filled by a _carag_... even now, those images sent heat through his body directly to his loins and made him instantly, painfully hard.  
  
Angry and disgusted, Aragorn shook his head, forcibly banishing the images from his mind. _He wouldn't do that!_ He would never take this incredible gift of love and trust his Elf had given him, despite all odds, despite everything Aragorn had done to him, and pervert and twist it in such a way!  
  
 _Legolas deserved better._  
  
Keeping this resolve firmly in mind, Aragorn looked up and let his gaze rest tenderly on the form of his Elf. Legolas had climbed a steep height again and was intently looking around. Watching him, Aragorn deliberately recalled the memories of their tender coupling last night.  
  
 _Legolas' shining eyes, the look of love and pure, unblemished joy in his face when Aragorn had asked him to make love to him... his sweet tenderness, the abandon with which he had dedicated himself to the task of bringing his partner pleasure..._  
  
Suddenly he wished with nearly painful intensity that that it could be always that way between them. That what they shared last night would be enough for him and his traitorous body. That somehow _he_ could give _Legolas_ such tenderness, and that it would serve to keep his Elf alive.  
  
But the bitter truth was that he couldn't, and for a moment that thought filled him with overwhelming grief. He had tried, once, to find a way to do that, a solution for their very different needs. The Valar knew he had tried...  
  
It had been in Gondor, in his time as 'Thorongil', and he had believed he had found the perfect solution to all their problems. And it even seemed to work so well, in the beginning...  
 _  
// / It was nightfall. The chamber Captain Thorongil, leader of a significant part of Gondor's army, shared with his faithful shadow – the beautiful servant some soldiers jokingly called 'Thorongil's Elf`' behind their captain's back – was glowing in the light of many candles.  
  
Aragorn stood at the fireplace, carefully preparing a goblet of wine with some potion from a little vial. Finally he was done and downed the goblet in one gulp.  
  
He turned around. His Elf watched him apprehensively.  
  
"Estel.... what are you doing?" Legolas asked, confused.  
  
Aragorn smiled at him.  
  
He stepped close and gathered him in his arms, petting him tenderly. "I am preparing to take you," he teased, "Didn't you notice?"  
  
Satisfied at his Elf's complete confusion, he buried his nose in Legolas neck, savoring his scent.  
  
Legolas shivered a bit under his attentions; he did not understand. "But--"  
  
Aragorn silenced him by gently biting into his ear and heard him gasp. It was a tender bite, hardly causing pain, yet it sent hot currents of arousal through his body and caused his slave to shiver. He could feel himself harden rapidly, and smiled even wider. It worked!  
  
His hands went down his slave's back, made it under Legolas' tunic, then the shirt, and found bare skin. He stroked up the lithe back and and felt goosebumps form under his touch. He could hear Legolas' breath hitching in the Elf's throat, as he gently started to nibble at the sensitive lobe under his lips, then lick the leaf-formed flesh with intense concentration.  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes. He savored the slight trembling – of bemusement and arousal, not of fear, for a change – of the Elf in his arms and luxuriated in his scent and feel. Letting go of the ear under his teeth, he murmured: "You know, there is this woman," --his hands stroked down again, then he took the tunic of his Elf and tugged upwards. Legolas obediently raised his arms and Aragorn drew back a little and slipped the tunic over his Elf's head. He tossed the tunic aside and reached for his Elf again.  
  
"The men swear on her skill; she's quite adept at herb lore," he continued, repeating the same with Legolas' shirt. Finally he had it over his Elf's head and off, and the Elf stood before him bare-chested and glorious, his aroused nipples hardened to eager peaks, his pale skin slightly flushed, his face still a bit confused. Aragorn had to swallow hard at the sight and felt his mouth water with desire.  
  
He stepped close again, grasping the Elf and pressing him hard against himself. Kissing him deeply, he plundered the willing mouth, while his hands roamed over the smooth, unmarred back. He finished the kiss and let his mouth wander to the ear again while his hands traveled downwards, stroking over still covered buttocks, then wandering around to the front and making short work of the bindings of Legolas leggings. The hands of the Elf came up around his back, clutching to him, and Legolas moaned as Aragorn's hands slipped under the cloth and touched hot, tumescent flesh. Legolas shuddered under his touch.  
  
"She sold me a tonic," the Adan continued his narration, while one of his hands began to fondle the hardening length under his touch and the other slipped behind and did the same to the tight buttocks of the Elf, "with some rare ingredients from Harad. She swears it can bring any man to hardness. Anytime."  
  
He paused to heighten the impact of his words. He felt Legolas jerk against him, and brought his hand up from the buttocks to the back of his Elf to still him and hold him close.  
  
"I tried it out," he stated the obvious. "It works."  
  
He drew back a bit and looked at the face of his lover. Legolas' eyes were wide as saucers.  
  
"But--" he stammered, "You--"-- then he caught himself. "Estel," the Elf finally dared to ask, "why would you do this?"  
  
Aragorn smiled at him, enjoying his disbelief and surprise.  
  
"Isn't it obvious, Little Leaf?" he asked. "So I can take you without pain! I know you do not enjoy being hurt, and I wish to give you what you need without having to hurt you."  
  
He saw the complete astonishment of the Elf and drew him close again. His mouth found the delicately tipped ear again and he nipped at it, tasting the skin. His hands traveled to Legolas' back and tugged the leggings down; then they explored the now bare, round globes of Legolas' rear.  
  
"Don't you see?" he whispered tenderly. "No more pain for you, no more hurting, no more need to fear our time together. I can be gentle. We can be together like you like it best. Maybe sometimes, very rarely, you can indulge me, too, and we can play a bit – nothing harsh, nothing you'd really need to fear, just something a little rougher. But most of the times, we can make love as we once did. Tender. Like you love it best."  
  
He heard Legolas' breath hitch, then there was a raw sob, then Legolas' arms tightened around his back, pressing him close.  
  
"You would do this-- for me?! Estel!--"  
  
Then the Elf kissed him, nearly desperate in his desire, clearly overwhelmed by gratitude, and his own arousal surged another notch. He savored the fervent kiss, then bit and suckled at the pale column of the Elf's neck, finally licking tenderly over every part of flesh his teeth had grazed.  
  
Finally, he let go and drew back a bit, grasping the half-way discarded leggings of his Elf and yanking them down.  
  
"Get out of that, Little Leaf," he growled. "You have far too many clothes on!"  
  
Eagerly, the slave obeyed, for the first time in far too long a time without apprehension, and Aragorn took the opportunity to discard his own clothes, too. Then they stood before each other in glorious nakedness, hard length to hard length, flushed and eager. Legolas' eyes were shining with love and desire.  
  
For this sight alone Estel would have taken thousands of these tonics.  
  
Reverently stepping close again, he enfolded the Elf in his arms. "I love you,"he said. "I want you!" His hands began to roam the body of his slave, and he felt Legolas' answering exploration of his own. The gentle, yet passionate attentions were raising his desire to new heights. Gently, he pressed forward, guiding his slave backwards the short distance to their broad bed. "I need you, Little Leaf," he growled desperately, "and I want to have you! Now!"  
  
Legolas' calves reached the bed and he was pressed backwards, tumbling into the sheets, drawing Estel on top of him.  
He gave a surprised little yelp, but it sounded rather delighted. "Estel," he whispered reverently, "Estel!..."  
  
It made Estel moan in desire.  
  
He found his Elf's neck again and bit down, hard, hearing Legolas' breath hitch. But instead of making the Elf squirm in pain and displeasure, this time the rough handling heightened his desire, as Estel immediately soothed the bite with his tongue and turned his attentions to soft suckling and little licks. His hands roamed the Elf under him, searching for all the places that made Legolas wild with pleasure. Legolas' hands roamed his body with unaccustomed boldness in response.  
  
Then Aragorn got up for a moment, reached for the night stand and got the oil. Bereft of his lover's hands, Legolas moaned in protest, but soon enough, Aragorn was back and knelt beside him.  
  
"Let's get more comfortable," he said and guided his Elf from the position across the bed to its length. Then he knelt between Legolas' splayed legs and coated his fingers and his eager member with the oil. He set the vial away and reached for the straining member of the Elf, gently fondling, then wandering down to the soft scrotum and the sacs until Legolas moaned and surged up for more. His other hand found the cleft between the muscled cheeks, exploring it until his fingers reached the puckered hole. He smiled at Legolas' sudden indrawn breath, He teased the opening a while with light circling, then dipped one finger inside just a bit, but withdrew immediately and returned to teasing. Meanwhile, his other hand did the same with the Elf's shaft, fondling, teasing, but denying a stronger massage or a rhythm.  
  
Legolas moaned in frustration. "Estel, please!" he begged, trying to surge against the teasing hands to get more friction, "please, more!"  
  
Aragorn gasped at his tone. He bent down on the straining shaft of his Elf and took it into his mouth. At the same time, his exploring finger slipped inside, breaching the tight ring of muscles and massaging the sheath of hot flesh from within.  
  
Legolas gasped again, then pushed down against the intruding finger. He made little, mewing sounds that drove his lover mad with desire.  
  
Aragorn added a second finger, pushed deeper and found the little nub that was the center of his lover's pleasure. Carefully, then ever faster, paying attention to every little moan, every squirming of his slave, he began to massage the gland, matching and amplifying the rhythm with the swirling of his tongue and the the sucking attentions his mouth gave to the Elf's hot flesh. He could feel Legolas toss and squirm and pressed his other hand on the Elf's flat stomach to keep him down.  
  
Finally, Legolas came, spilling himself into Estel's mouth, shouting his name, And Aragorn swallowed the hot essence of his slave, milking him to the last drop. He didn't drink it all, though; instead, letting go of the now limp member of his Elf and slipping his fingers out, he got up and kissed Legolas deeply, letting him taste his own essence. Then he straightened and slipped his own knees under the pelvis of his partner.  
  
"And now, melethron," he said breathlessly, "it is time to take you!"  
  
And with that, he buried himself deep in the welcoming sheath of his partner's flesh.  
  
  
There was some resistance; Aragorn's erect member was thicker that the two fingers he had used to stretch the opening, and Legolas gave a little gasp of pain. But the Elf was relaxed from his recent orgasm and Aragorn stopped instantly, giving the tight muscles time to adjust and soothing his Elf with tender stroking of the stomach. Then he felt the tight muscles relax around him, and Legolas moaned a little and moved against Aragorn to meet him.  
  
Smiling at his eagerness, Aragorn began to move, and the Elf gasped again, this time in obvious pleasure. His breath hitched, as Aragorn hit his gland, and Aragorn readjusted his own angle so he would stimulate his partner's sweet spot with every move. The hot, living sheath around his flesh felt unbelievable, and his partner's astonished and unguarded face, transfigured in pleasure, made him hot with desire.  
  
Legolas hands came up, grasping his arms, and the pelvis of the Elf lurched up against him. "Estel!" Legolas moaned in deep desire, "Estel! Please! More!!!--"  
  
Aragorn gasped. He thrust forward. With every thrust, he hit his lover's sweet spot, and felt him move eagerly against him. He heard his lover shout his name in bliss, and it spurred him on. Soon, he was thrusting in abandon, taking Legolas hard, but still taking care that he hit the gland of the Elf. His frantic movements were answered with equal eagerness. The Elf was nearly incoherent, calling his name, asking him for more, faster, harder, begging for completion. It drove Aragorn mad with lust.  
  
When he finally spilled himself, deeply buried in his partner's body, shouting Legolas' name, he felt Legolas' hot fluid against his stomach, and heard his answering shout: "Estel!"  
  
It sounded full of bliss.  
  
In blessed exhaustion, still joined, Aragorn let himself collapse over the body of his lover.  
  
It was quite some time later – enough for his essence to take hold in his lover's body – that he finally slipped out of him. Rolling to the side so he would no longer crush him, he gathered Legolas in his arms and kissed him again.  
  
Legolas moaned. "That was wonderful, Estel," he finally said, "Thank you! Thank you!!!" He nearly cried with joy.  
  
Aragorn kissed his eyes, then snuggled against him. "I'm glad," he said, "I'm glad!"  
  
He rested his head on the chest of his Elf.  
  
"I love you, Little Leaf," he said, "I love you so much! It will get better now! You'll see! It will get better...!"  
  
Petting his Elf's breast, feeling Legolas' answering caresses of his head, he fell asleep while his Elf slipped into blessed reverie. / //_  
  
  
____________________ o ___________________  
  
  
Aragorn trudged on while the memories flooded him. He sent a tender and wistful look in the direction of his Elf; then he quickly looked down again and bowed his head.  
  
He made a grimace.  
  
Yes, it had been wonderful at first, and it had even stayed so for a time. He had felt relieved, as if freed from a terrible pressure. Of course he had sometimes missed his familiar games, and sometimes he had even still played a little bit – nothing fancy, just a bit of tying up and teasing, and maybe some toys, some spanking and a little hot wax in the mix. It had not been often enough or harsh enough to disturb their bliss. For several months, he and Legolas had made love without any fear and pain, and Legolas had positively bloomed. He had been completely and unquestionably happy.  
  
Of course it had been too good to be true.  
  
Aragorn recalled the first few signs of warning, signs that something was amiss – his nervousness when he and his Elf had not made love for a few days, his near panic when his supply of the potion threatened to run out and he couldn't get his hands on another dose in time; the fact that after a while, he needed an ever higher dosage to get the desired effect.  
  
But he had ignored these signs and stubbornly went on, trying to hide his discomfort from Legolas. The happiness and joy of his Elf had been far too precious a thing to let it be disrupted by such little problems as his body's changing reaction to the drug. Even when he found himself bathed in sweat and his heart racing as if he had just run several miles after he took a higher than normal dosage, he had tried to hide it from his Elf. Of course, that attempt hadn't been successful; it wasn't long until Legolas found out.  
  
At that point, Legolas had wanted him to stop. But Aragorn mulishly had just shaken his head and told him he knew best what was good for him, and he could handle the risk, and when that did not help he had just **commanded** his Elf to shut up. It had remained a point of discord between them, but finally, Legolas obeyed.  
  
Until the day they paid the price for Aragorn's stubbornness.  
  
_______________________________ o _______________________  
  
 _  
// / It was another night, this one cold and unpleasant and in the questionable comfort of a tent. The army stood at Pelagir, preparing to set out with the fleet to attack Umbar the following night. But the leader of said army knelt, naked and troubled, before his equally naked slave and looked stricken.  
  
"It isn't working, Little Leaf," he said in despair. "I cannot get hard. It doesn't work."  
  
He looked at his slave, who was shivering in sudden fear. "I tried. I have taken more of the tonic than ever before. I nearly overdosed. Still..."  
  
He looked down at his manhood, which lay soft and dormant between his legs. His heart felt as if it were trying to win a race, and his skin was on fire, glistening with cold sweat. But his treacherous maleness didn't even stir.  
  
Hesitantly, he raised his gaze again and looked into the fearful eyes of his slave.  
  
Legolas swallowed. He was well aware that he just had heard his possible death sentence. On the other hand, Aragorn's obvious state of distress concerned him. "It isn't bad yet, Estel," he said. "There is still some time..."  
  
He reached out his hand. "Maybe..."  
  
Aragorn evaded him. "You do not understand!" he said in despair. "This isn't only about tonight. The tonic doesn't seem to work on me anymore." He swallowed dryly. "I... I..."  
  
Legolas hesitated. He was not deeply in need yet. Still... he could feel the pressure building in the back of his mind as clearly as he knew what waited for him should Aragorn's concerns prove true. And Aragorn was frantic. More importantly, he was due to set out against Umbar the very next night. This might be their last chance for some time to feed the spell, lest Legolas risk falling ill and being of no use for his master.  
  
He swallowed again. "Maybe," he warily began, "maybe if you... hurt me again, My Lord..."  
  
Yet he shuddered at the thought. The last few months had been so wonderful, like a dream, and to have all this taken away again now...  
  
Aragorn looked at his Elf, lover and slave and swallowed hard.  
  
"I do not want to hurt you, Little Leaf," he said raspingly, "I do not..." - he bit his lips and looked away.  
  
He swallowed again.  
  
 **'I do not want to hurt you'** – it sounded so well. It sounded **right**. And yet...  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind a nasty, all too familiar voice told him how **great** it would feel to see the sudden fear in the eyes of his slave again, to hear him gasp in pain, to watch him bite his lips, tremble – and then surrender to his master's choice how to torment him obediently, in helpless resignation... The mere thought sent hot currents to Aragorn's groin and made him stir again. It had been so long since they'd last played some really satisfying games... So long since he had last used his slave at length... he felt his member harden between his legs and groaned.  
  
He swallowed again. "Legolas..."  
  
Legolas had seen his stirring flesh. He bowed his head. **No other choice, then!**  
  
Noiselessly, he got up and scrambled close. Kneeling down before his master, head submissively bowed, the Elf said: "Please, My Lord! Let me serve your pleasure!" He swallowed again and cleared his throat. After a moment, he added: "Do with me as you wish! Please! Let me serve your needs!"  
  
Aragorn's breath hitched. He looked back at his slave, feeling hot desire surging through him, and his maleness twitched again, although it was not fully erect yet. Still, he did not act immediately on his desire.  
  
Hoarsely, fighting hard for his voice, he whispered: "Are you sure, Little Leaf?"  
  
He did not ask more. He didn't need to.  
  
Legolas merely nodded. Quietly he answered:  
  
"Yes, My Lord! Let me serve your needs!"  
  
In the next moment, he was enclosed in a crushing embrace and a deep, demanding kiss.  
  
"You know it will hurt, do you not? You know you will have to suffer thoroughly, tonight?" Aragorn asked harshly.  
  
Legolas swallowed a sob. For a moment Aragorn caught his look of pain and despair, and it filled him with answering dismay and grief. But at the same time he could feel his own flesh harden and desire run through his veins. He couldn't go back now.  
  
Then the slave obediently bowed his head and nodded.  
  
Aragorn gasped and grasped him hard. Falling into the mood came naturally, like returning to a well-worn and familiar set of clothes. "Well, then," he growled, "get up and take yourself to the trunk! Bring me the toys we kept. The whip, I think, the clamps, and one of the paddles. And light a few more candles. I can't even recall when I last coated you properly in wax..."  
  
Shivering, the slave obeyed. Without further words, he retrieved the commanded toys and spread them out for his master's use. Wordlessly, he suffered his master fastening the clamps on him. Yet when Aragorn commanded him to bring one of the carags and the irritant, he could not help the tears escaping his eyes.  
  
Swallowing them as best as he was able, he did as he was commanded. / //_  
  
_______________________ o ____________________  
  
  
Aragorn bit his lips, trying to shake his head free of the vivid images. He wasn't successful. The memories persisted, flooding his mind, demanding his attention. Reluctantly, he forced himself to recall the rest of it.  
  
It had been a long, hard night for Legolas, especially given the fact that the Elf had grown unused to his master's abuse. Still, in the end, it worked. But when Aragorn held his helplessly crying slave in his arms after he had finally spilled himself in him, he knew that their time in Gondor had ended.  
  
Even with the return to his cruel games, it had barely been enough. And they were about to go into battle. Legolas would not be at his best after a night like this, and might be hampered by the recent abuse... He could not risk this again. They needed to go home, back to the rangers.  
  
When they set out to Umbar the following night, Legolas' body had nearly recuperated already, but the Elf's mind was troubled. Legolas' mood was damp and bleak, and he was back to calling Aragorn only _'master'_ and _'My Lord'_ again. Aragorn supposed the sole good thing about the whole sordid business was the fact that Legolas' mind had been too occupied by the unfortunate turn of events for the Elf to be vulnerable to the temptation of the sea. Legolas took the whole trip to Umbar, the attack on the pirate fleet and the trip back to Pelagir without falling prey to the sea-longing. Aragorn was grateful for that small grace, at least.  
  
The stories said that after his victory over the pirate fleet in Umbar, Captain Thorongil did not return to Minas Trith, where great honor awaited him, but chose to leave the army in Pelagir, alone and unaccompanied, without any disclosure about his plans or where he was headed, and so returned to obscurity. They also said that when Thorongil left, his face was turned to the Mountains of Shadow(1).  
  
The truth was somewhat less mysterious. Knowing that he could not risk returning to Minas Tirith and being tied up in court matters and ceremonies for indefinite time, Aragorn swore a few, trusted confidants among his men to secrecy and bade them cover his tracks. Then he left with Legolas and took the boat of a smuggler, who was happy to sail them up the Anduin for a pretty sum without making stops and without asking questions. They went as far as they could go by boat, bought horses in Rohan and made their way back along the Green Way as fast as the animals would go. Even so, it took them well over three weeks to get back home, even though Aragorn spurred them on until the horses nearly could not go on anymore.  
  
Aragorn did not dare stop taking the potion during that time, lest he risk succumbing to withdrawal; but nonetheless he did not manage to take his slave even once the whole way. When they finally reached Eriador and blessedly found their rangers' main camp, Legolas was nearly delirious with need.  
  
Aragorn did not know what he would have done if Halbarad - or even Onogdir – had not been there. True, it was not that far to Rivendell, and they could probably have made it in time for Legolas, but for obvious reasons, Aragorn did not wish to lay his problems and the whole story of how these problems came about in the first place, at Elrond's feet. He feared his foster father might decide to let Legolas die just to teach him a lesson.  
  
To his everlasting gratitude, his second in command among the rangers was there, and after Halbarad had overcome his horror at Aragorn's tale – and at Legolas' state of health – and after he was done with calling his chieftain six kinds of a fool and a few less flattering terms as well, he took Legolas to bed without further ado.  
  
Aragorn recalled how relieved he had been when Legolas finally was out of danger and up again, restored to health, a few days later. And he recalled with a shudder what had followed – the long, painful weeks of withdrawal when his own body was deprived of the potion and slowly and reluctantly got rid of his need for the drug. Legolas – safely in the care of a very angry and disgruntled Halbarad - had nurtured him patiently through that time. And when Aragorn had finally recovered, he shocked both his second in command and his slave with the revelation that he had to leave.  
  
He told them that he needed time alone to come to terms with himself and the last traces of the addiction; and besides, there had been rumors he had heard in Gondor about happenings in Harad and possibly in Mordor he needed to investigate. He would leave Legolas with Halbarad and go alone.  
  
Of course, Legolas had argued. He had insisted on accompanying his master and guarding his back. Aragorn told him Harad was not the place for an Elf; the Haradrim knew nothing about his kind and would be distrustful of his very appearance. Legolas countered the Haradrim kept slaves, and would think nothing of it if a stranger went there with a slave in tow, even if said slave was pretty exotic. Aragorn argued after the visit in Harad he was headed to Mordor, and that was an even worse place for an Elf than Harad would be. While a man might have a chance to pass into the Black Land unnoticed, an _Elf_ certainly would not. Legolas protested that Mordor was hardly the right place for _Isildur's heir_ , either, especially if he went there unguarded by a companion.  
  
Finally, Aragorn ended the whole argument by simply _commanding_ his slave to stay behind, and to discourage any further discussion he threatened to tie him up and have Halbarad keep him tied until he could not hope to catch up with Aragorn again. And he did not allow any further debate of the matter.  
  
When he finally set out again, on foot and leaving Legolas behind to stay with Halbarad during his absence, however long that might be, it had been a strange and unfamiliar experience for him at first. For the first time since he could think he was alone for more than a few weeks. But it had helped him to regain sight of who he was. And when he finally reached Gondor again, carefully guarding his anonymity, he was sure he had been cured of the last traces of the drug and its grip on his mind. His mission in Harad then had needed his full attention, all his abilities and senses put to a thorough test, and he had needed all his ranger skills to fit in, to stay undetected, to find and gather the information he sought...  
  
Nearly unnoticed, during these strenuous months, his body had healed at last. How relieved he had been that night in Harad when finally his flesh had stirred again for one hapless slave who had been ordered to serve his needs for the night. Although it still took some harshness and some cruelty for him to find completion.  
  
Luckily, that had been exactly what that slave was used to and expected. To Aragorn's surprise, he even seemed to enjoy his games. Since the slave had been send to him to warm his bed (and possibly, to spy on him) as long as he stayed in the tents of the Haradrim Lord he had been visiting at the time, they had shared a short, delicious affair, even though it had been Legolas' face that had filled Aragorn's dreams during the nights.  
  
When he left at last and headed on to Mordor, he had been confident that he had healed and was no longer dependent on a drug to keep his Elf alive, should he ever return home and reclaim him.  
  
  
And then, nearly a year later, when he got back home at last, how _overjoyed_ Legolas had been when he had finally enclosed him in his arms again – even though his slave knew only too well that Aragorn's return also meant a return to his master's abuse and his cruel needs... it had been a good thing that Aragorn was so deprived of his slave – and in fact, of _any_ physical closeness – then that he was content with but little of his former cruel play at first, and only slowly began to crave more again. Surely this had helped Legolas a lot to adjust to his master's needs again...  
  
  
Bitterly, Aragorn shook his head again and looked up, searching Legolas with his eyes, lingering with grief and tenderness on the familiar form.  
  
That had been his great attempt to give his slave an outlet from his cruel needs. Luckily, they had both survived it, and in the end they had even found their way back to a kind of delicate balance together.  
  
Nevertheless, Aragorn never risked the use of any stimulant again. He would not succumb to the same kind of foolishness twice, and Legolas' life was far too precious to him to risk it that way.  
  
And he never again confessed his love to his slave, not even in the throes of passion. Of course he still called him _'melethron (2)'_ now and then; but he never again told him outright that he loved him.  
  
How could he tell Legolas he loved him when he needed to hurt him every time they made love? How could he confess his love to the one he needed to abuse and of whom his own treacherous mind indulged in fantasies of torture?  
  
\-- The bleak grief of his thoughts was too much to endure, and Aragorn shook his head once more to banish the memories and images. Tenderly and full of grief he watched his slave trudging on, chatting with the Hobbits.  
  
His gaze found Boromir again, and he grimaced.  
  
 _'And **you** think that I just decided to let you take him on a whim, Steward's son!'_ he thought grimly. _'If you only knew!'_  
  
He looked at Legolas again and thought sadly: _'At least, **he** will not have to hurt you to keep you alive! I wish that I could do so myself, Beloved, but I can't. This is the only way I can ensure your safety, even though I know you hate it!...'_  
  
  
\-- The Elf's sudden movement ripped him out of his thoughts. Legolas looked around again, and without any warning he suddenly ran up the hill and climbed a rock, staring at the sky. Then he dropped from the rock and shouted his warning:  
  
 _" **Crebain, again!** They fly to the west!" _  
  
Everybody stiffened and looked for cover. Yet there was none; they were on a broad hillside with few bushes and only a few rocks and boulders to provide cover, all of them far from their current spot. Still, at Gandalf's signal, the Fellowship dropped to the ground, trying to be as unobtrusive as they could. Aragorn looked out, tensely watching the suspicious birds. They did not come closer. But they circled over the country in the west for a while until they finally turned and headed south again.  
  
When they were gone, the Fellowship scrambled up and gathered around Gandalf to take council again.  
  
Gandalf's face was grim.  
  
"I cannot say whether they have seen us or not," he said, "however, even if they have, that can't be helped now. All we can do is make haste and cross the mountains swiftly. We must seek to reach Lothlorien! Be swift. We have yet to cover quite some way until we have to stop for nightfall. The higher path will be too dangerous to cross at night."  
  
And with that he started to walk on again, and left them no choice but to follow.  
  
Aragorn marched on, all memories driven away by their grim path. However while he trudged on after Boromir and looked out for any danger threatening the Fellowship, one thought remained and gained ever more importance in his mind:  
  
 _He would need to speak to Gandalf. There **had** to be a way to break the spell! Even if it meant he would deprived of his Elf afterwards – and the mere thought filled his mind with overwhelming loss and grief – that would be a **very small** price to pay if only it could buy Legolas' freedom.  
  
 **Legolas deserved happiness.** Whatever the cost._  
  
Yes. He would speak with Gandalf as soon as he could.  
  
With this resolve firmly in mind, Aragorn trudged on, determinedly concentrating on the path and on the present and ceasing all thoughts of the past.  
  
  
____________________ o __________________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) According to J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings (1954), Harper Collins Edition 1995, Appendix A, page 1030. The _Ephel Duath_ or Mountains of Shadow are bordering on Mordor.  
  
(2) _Melethron – Sindarin_ : (male) beloved, lover


	40. Temptation

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter I am directly lifting dialogue both from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of the Rings (Extended Edition) and from J.R.R. Tolkien's book "The Lord of the Rings" again. Original dialogue will be marked with proper reference notes. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: Occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
________________________  
  


**XXXVIII. Temptations**  
  
  
It was a long, tiresome way up the mountain. Soon it grew colder, and after a while they passed the snow line, which was unaccustomedly low for this time of the year, especially as far south as they already were. The snow wasn't deep yet, but it did not make the walk more pleasant for any of them, especially since it obscured quite effectively any holes and treacherous ridges that might wait to catch an unsuspecting foot, or sudden patches of slippery ice hidden under the smooth surface. Aragorn could see the other members of the fellowship struggle with the deceptive surface each in their own way; Boromir with dour determination and a grim scowl that expressed his displeasure with their way, the Dwarf with grim stoicism, and Gandalf with a frown, that only deepened when the temperature seemed to drop around them.  
  
Aragorn knew what concerned him; the weather was all wrong. It wasn't uncommon for Caradhras to hold snow, especially not in mid November, of course, but that should have awaited them much higher up the mountain, not as far down as here.  
  
The hardest troubled of them all of course, were the Hobbits. Not only was the cold surface hard on their unprotected feet, they also were more hindered by the shin-deep snow than the taller members of their company. Aragorn watched with sympathy how the Halflings struggled to move on, holding themselves admirably although they grew considerably slower. It was anyone's guess how they would fare if the snow grew deeper.  
  
Caradhras seemed to be quite unfriendly to the Fellowship.  
  
 _ **Or to all but one.**_ With envy, Aragorn cast look askance at Legolas, who, of course, walked easily on the smooth white surface as if it had been draped there especially to ease his way. It didn't help that he knew the Elf simply couldn't help it, and that it was a natural advantage of his race. It still made him grouse at the injustice that he, mere mortal, was forced to trudge along where his dear, subservient companion could walk and even run with ease.  
  
Of course, had they but known in advance that their path would lead this way they could have brought – or made – some snow shoes for the mortals of the company. But there had simply been no time. So all Aragorn could do was force himself to bear the unjust natural advantage of his slave with grace, and fight down his own familiar envy.  
  
Soon, the whiteness around them, the cold, blue sky and the monotonous walking lulled the members of the company into a kind of mindless trance.  
  
  
Aragorn trudged through the snow, allowing his thoughts to wander. He still held the rear of the fellowship, and therefore the most vulnerable position, that also allowed for the most solitude. The company was spread out on the wide, open mountainside. Since they had passed the snow line and walking had become somewhat harder, especially for the Hobbits, their original walking order had been broken; while Gandalf still held the top of the line, Gimli had dropped behind the Hobbits and Legolas, and the Hobbits themselves were slowly abandoning their usual cluster in favor of a more individual walking formation.  
  
Frodo, especially, seemed to tire much sooner. The Ring Bearer had dropped behind the other Hobbits and even behind Boromir; now he walked about ten paces in front of the Ranger, clearly struggling to keep on.  
  
Aragorn cast him a sympathetic gaze. 'Twas no surprise to him that of all four Halflings Frodo should be the one most affected. As admirably as the Ring Bearer had borne himself so far given his burden, not to mention the gruesome wound by the Morgul blade from which he had recovered, it was plain that the Ring was eating at his strength. And if the healer in Aragorn was any judge, the farther they were coming south on this journey of theirs, the heavier the burden seemed to become for the Halfing.  
  
'Twas a desperate decision to leave so heavy and gruesome a burden to one so innocent as that.  
  
Of course, the Ring might have been too dangerous in the hands of another with more power, but was this an excuse to endanger that kind hearted Halfling instead of those who should take up responsibility?  
  
Not to mention that there were those among the Fellowship who hardly needed to fear falling deeper into corruption than they already were. Why not give the ring to such a one, who knew and was aware of his own demons, instead of dumping it onto an innocent who would just find himself twisted into some creature resembling Gollum along the way?  
  
With a shudder Aragorn recalled that twisted creature, in Gandalf's opinion the former possessor of the Ring. And during most of the time the creature held it, the Ring had obviously been asleep, just half conscious. Not so now. Clearly the Ring had woken, and had done what it could during their short journey from Bree to Rivendell to draw the enemy to them. Their close encounter with the Nazgul at Weathertop spoke for itself.  
  
How long, then, would it take that thing now to consume one unfortunate Hobbit?  
  
And Frodo and his people were by no means those who should have to bear that burden. It had been _Isildur_ who once had failed to destroy the thing.  
  
It was _Isildur's_ line who were bound to the fate of the One Ring ever since.  
  
Therefore it should be the responsibility of _Isildur's heir_ to bear that burden and see to its destruction now.  
  
Shocked, Aragorn woke from his train of thoughts and shook his head quickly in denial in a futile attempt to clear it. _How had **this** come about? Hadn't he already braced himself against this kind of temptation?_ Grimly he tried to ignore the voice inside his head and banish the ideas. But his treacherous mind failed to obey him. The thoughts persisted.  
  
 _You are Isildur's heir,_ his mind told him. _The Ring is **your** responsibility. And it should be your task to bear it. And besides, who says that you would have to destroy it right away? You could use it first, use it to overthrow the enemy and set you in his stead. Isildur was weak. He had no idea how to use this ring. **You** have been taught by Elrond. You have learned much. You are greater then your forebears were. You could use it and bend it to your power. And this is the Master Ring. All others answer to its power. Think – with one move, you could subdue all the Elven realms. You could subdue both Galadriel and Elrond. You could **force** Elrond to give you his daughter. You could force him to free Mirkwood. With one simple move, Legolas' people would be free. How he would adore you for that!..._  
  
The thought was so compelling, it made Aragorn gasp. He could see it before his waking eyes, Legolas' face, full of wonder and gratitude... He shook his head again. It did not help that he _knew_ the voice in his head was that of the Ring, that he _knew_ its promises to be sweet, but deadly lies. The voice persisted.  
  
So did the images.  
  
 _'I cannot wield it,'_ he dryly reminded himself. _'All it would do was turn me in a Ringwraith as it did the Nine, and wouldn't **that** appeal to Legolas!'_  
  
But the voice in his mind wouldn't be silenced.  
  
 _'The Nine wear only lesser rings. This is the **One.** It would not turn you into a wraith. You are stronger than that. Instead, it would grant you the enemy's power. His magic powers as well as his strength to force his subjects under his own will – and to subdue the will of others. You need not fight the Nazgul and the Orcs, they would obey you. On your command, they would turn against their former master. Gondor would be safe. **Mirkwood** would be safe. You would be king, and the whole war could be ended before it even fully began.'_  
  
Aragorn shuddered at the thought. _So easy – it would be so easy to give in, to fall for that sweet lie..._  
  
 **'Oh yes,'** he muttered grimly to himself, _'and of course Boromir would just stand by and let me do this!'_ \- but he knew the answer to that one before it came.  
  
 _'Boromir only wants the ring to be used. He would not mind if it was you who did it. He is half ready to follow you, if you would only claim the One and declare that you intended to save Gondor'_ the voice told him. _'And Legolas? The Elf is bound to you already heart and soul. He would fight for you, especially if you reward him with freedom for his people. Legolas has always cared more about them than for himself.'_  
  
It did not help that Aragorn could not completely discount that, although he imagined his sweet Elf would have quite a lot to say to him if his master actually went so far as to betray his oaths. Even if it would result in a gruesome punishment.  
  
 _Oh yes._ There was _that._  
  
 _'I swore to protect Frodo'_ he reminded himself. _'And **Legolas** swore to serve me. And recently he also swore to Glorfindel to protect Frodo and the free people from any harm. He swore to protect the Ring Bearer with his life. So did I.'  
  
'And doesn't the life and the freedom of the free people weigh much more than that particular oath?'_ the hateful voice retorted. _'Besides, Legolas' **first** oath and first line of duty is to **you**. Whatever you decide, he is bound to welcome, and will do so as long as you do not turn against his own. He would be **glad** to serve you and to follow you as long as you lived. Even more – with the Ring you need not die. You would live on as did Bilbo. You need not fear dragging Legolas and Arwen with you into mortality. You would live, as long as you choose to, **and so would they**.'_  
  
Aragorn swallowed dryly. Of all the tempting promises of the hateful thing, that one was perhaps the most inconsequential, since his first action if he ever had established peace again would of course be to throw the thing into the fire where it belonged. _And yet._ To save Legolas' life, that easily... to allow Arwen to be with him and still keep the life of the Eldar...  
  
Forcibly, he had to remind himself what such a life would mean for his Elf.  
  
Pain and torture, whenever his master chose to subject him to his needs.  
  
He shook his head, determined to banish the voice from his mind, once and for all.  
  
 _Legolas needed freedom._ Being subjected to an eternity of pain was the last thing he'd like to give his Elf. At least if he could help it.  
  
 _ **'You could make him like it!'**_ the thought came unbidden to his mind.  
  
 _'The One Ring's power can bend and affect the mind of others. You could make Legolas **like** what you do to him. Make him truly enjoy it. Like that slave in Harad. **Think!** He could be glad and happy while he served your needs, and you could both live happily together.'_  
  
The thought was so intense and so compelling, the images accompanying it were so convincing, they made Aragorn nearly stop cold in his tracks. Vivid images flashed for a moment in his mind: _Legolas in his bonds, but this time shivering not with dread and fear at his master's actions, but with eagerness and anticipation..._  
  
Aragorn gasped. He could have screamed at the sudden, intense surge of desire settling in his groin, at the intense yearning in his soul, at the sudden longing for the warm, sweet body of his slave, for his comforting and unquestioned submission...  
  
Swallowing hard, he tried with all his strength to force his body back under control, to clear his mind.  
  
Just at that moment, Frodo, walking some ten paces before him, slipped and tumbled down the mountain, rolling directly in front of his feet.  
  
For a moment, Aragorn was frozen. Then he shouted: "Frodo!" and quickly bent to help the Halfling up. He helped him stand, grasping him by his shoulders.  
  
 _ **'Right now!'**_ the voice unbidden whispered in his head. _'It would be easy! Just a flick of your sword... he would be dead before he knew it... **do it, now!'**_  
  
For a moment, he could actually **see** the image before his eyes, him, drawing his sword, a quick, practiced swing, the head of the Hobbit rolling away, leaving a red stain in the snow...  
  
\-- bile rose in his throat, and involuntarily he grabbed the shoulders of the Halfling tighter.  
  
Just then, Frodo straightened in alarm and gripped his throat, feeling under his tunic. For one terrible moment, Aragorn thought the Hobbit had somehow actually read his thoughts, but then he saw Frodo frantically looking around and followed his gaze.  
  
To the place, ten paces before them, where the Halfling had walked just moments before.  
  
There, gleaming in the sunlight, lay the Ring, the chain that had closed around the Hobbits neck inexplicably open.  
  
And just at that moment, it was picked up by Boromir of Gondor.  
  
Aragorn stiffened.  
  
 _Did that thing mean to set the two of them up to fight for its possession?_  
  
As if on cue, the hated voice inside his head screamed at him:  
  
 _'He wants it for himself! He means to rob you! He will take your throne, he'll take your Elf... kill him! Kill him!!!'_  
  
Reflectively and nearly of its own volition, his hand wandered down toward his sword.  
  
Boromir raised the ring up to his face, holding it by its chain. He seemed oblivious to everything around him and utterly fascinated.  
  
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt," he began, and his other hand traveled up to the golden band, "over so small a thing.(1)" His other hand reached higher, nearly touching.  
  
"Such a little thing."  
  
Behind Boromir, Aragorn could see Gandalf turn around, then the whole Fellowship coming to a halt and turning to watch them. Legolas looked back, arms crossed before his breast, not yet ready for action.  
  
 _'He's waiting for your order'_ the voice in Aragorn's head goaded. _'One command and he will drop that Gondorian where he stands. Just give the word. He will obey you...'_  
  
Fighting the voice down, Aragorn spoke. He could hear his own voice, oddly flat.  
  
"Boromir," he said. "Give the Ring to Frodo!"  
  
Boromir looked up as if suddenly woken from a dream, and his gaze met Aragorn's. Doubtless, he saw Aragorn's hand ready at his sword.  
  
He hesitated.  
  
 _'He wants it for himself!'_ the voice in Aragorn's head screamed again. _'Kill him! Kill him now!!!'_  
  
With all the considerable strength of his will, Aragorn ignored it. He waited.  
  
The moments seemed endless. Then, after what seemed like forever, Boromir shrugged.  
  
"As you wish," he said. "I care not!"  
  
And he stepped close and gave the Ring to Frodo, who took it hastily and placed it back around his neck. As if in an afterthought, the man of Gondor patronizingly stroked over the Hobbit's curly locks.  
  
Then he smiled and turned around, pretending not to see Frodo's stiff posture at his demeaning joviality.  
  
Frodo shuddered and stepped away from Aragorn, slowly starting to walk again.  
  
Aragorn watched him go. It was a long time until he could convince his hand to leave the hilt of his sword.  
  
__________________ o ____________________  
  
  
Boromir trudged on, face set in a scowl. Did that Ranger believe he had not seen the threatening hand at the sword-hilt? What did that so-called heir of Isildur take him for? A thief?  
  
And when he turned he had seen the posture of the others, uneasy, watching, as if they were waiting for the two men among them to fight it out among themselves. Especially that Elf, standing with his arms crossed, as if he was waiting to see which who of the two men would win the competition...  
  
Angrily, Boromir shook his head to banish the stupid thought. _There was no competition._ Not over the Ring, anyway. He had not intended to take it, nor had the Ranger...  
  
And yet. Even now he could see the enticing golden band, flashing before his eyes, could feel the pull of power, the promise of might and victory...  
  
How strange that this little thing should hold such power, that something that small should be the source of all their dread, and should hold the Enemy's most potent powers.  
  
And if it did, how foolish of them all to carry it all the way to his doorstep, instead of using it against him and to overthrow the threat he posed. That small thing could be the answer to the prayers of his people!  
  
And his companions and the so-called 'wise', all of them, feared to make use of that.  
  
None of them could understand his people's desperate need. They all sat safely far away, secured by Gondor's forces. Sure, that little Elf had told him of the battles of his own Elven woodland realm against a stronghold of the Enemy; but after what they had learned about him, now, Boromir asked himself how much of that was true. And if it was, then Legolas should be the first among the fellowship to understand Boromir's plight.  
  
It was foolish beyond belief to throw the Ring away. If it truly held such power, the only course of action was to take it for themselves and use it against the Enemy! With that golden band, Sauron could be overthrown and Gondor's people could be spared!  
  
And yet this company was on their way through the wilderness, facing whatever dangers, in a fool's errand to throw the thing away. In an open invitation to whatever force the Enemy might send to kill them, one by one, as easily as one might pick some berries from a plate.  
  
Frustration coiled again in Boromir's stomach, impotent anger at the cowardice and foolishness, the questionable wisdom of Elrond's council, and of the other members of the Fellowship – namely the wizard and the Ranger.  
  
Again the memory of the golden band flashed before his eyes.  
  
 _If he just could have touched it!_  
  
Again Boromir recalled the warning glitter in Aragorn's eyes, and again he scowled. What did they think, that he would fall into mindless possession if he but touched the thing? Then why did they allow that privilege to Frodo?  
  
Besides. 'Twas true that Aragorn had said none of them could wield the Ring, that the thing only answered to the enemy, and would not obey another master.  
  
But that might be true for _wizards_ , and for _Elves!_ It might even be true for _Aragorn_ , since he was of the line of Isildur, and obviously that line had been thoroughly corrupted. That man had even fallen to the point where he kept _slaves_ , for Eru's sake! He had been hiding in the wilds, associated with a corrupt race of Elves who enslaved their own kin, and his whole line was long bereft of kingship.  
  
But surely it would be different for a strong man of Gondor! He, Boromir, was of the line of Hurin, a strong, long line of Stewards who had held Gondor against all comers without the presence of a king for nigh one thousand years!  
  
Surely, _**he**_ or his father would have the power and the strength to use the Ring according to their need...  
  
But how could he convince the others of the Fellowship to let him try? He had seen the distrust in their eyes. His so-called comrades would rather fight him, than admit that they might be wrong!  
  
Frustrated at the foolishness of his companions, Boromir trudged on. His thoughts returned to Legolas and to the expectant posture of the Elf when he had watched him.  
  
 _Legolas had the least to gain by destroying the ring, and the most – beside Boromir himself – if they would use it. To throw the thing away would hardly free his people. But if Boromir **took** the ring and used it to free Gondor from the threat of Sauron, then he could maybe afterwards also use it to overthrow the other Elven realms, or at least humble them into submission. Mayhaps he could even use it to break their hold over Legolas' realm...  
  
And wouldn't that appeal to the little Elf? He would be grateful, and he would leave that abusive master of his and stay with Bomomir as new protector. Boromir would have his loyalty and gratitude, and the pleasure of him sharing his nights willingly..._ All Boromir needed to do was convince the Elf that he would be a better choice for a protector than the Dunadan. Maybe that was the way to go. Maybe he could convince Legolas to follow him. Merry and Pippin, too... the Halflings would surely rather stay in safety in Gondor than fight the Enemy on his own ground...  
  
Boromir shook his head again, mockingly smiling at himself. _What was he thinking?_ He did not even knew if half of what the Elf had told him about himself was true, or if all of it was a lie.  
  
 _And did he truly believe he could turn that little bed-toy from his master to act in his favor, and even more, convince the Hobbits to act against the wizard and against that Ranger whom they had at first liked so much?_  
  
Well, at least they did not seem to trust the Dunadan that much anymore, now...  
  
Sighing and banishing his thoughts, Boromir set his brooding aside for now and adjusted the shield on his back. He could hardly do anything right now.  
  
But he reconsidered the plans he had for tonight.  
  
 _Oh yes. It was definitely time to ask the little Elf some questions!_  
  
Then he blinked, as a wet sensation hit his face, and stared around in disbelief.  
  
As if by magic, the blue sky of only half an hour ago had disappeared. Great clouds were gathering over them, and it began to snow anew.  
  
 _'Oh, great,'_ the man of Gondor dryly thought. _'And now, we have to deal with the weather, too!'_  
  
___________________ 0 ______________  
  
  
Not three hours later, Boromir's mood was even worse. It was now nearly so dark that they were not sure if it was already night, and they had to turn back after their way was blocked both by a raging snow storm and by an avalanche of snow and rocks set loose by a bolt of lightning, that had nearly thrown Gandalf down the cliff if not for the quick reflexes of the Elf, and had then buried them in snow.  
  
They could not hope to overcome that obstacle; of all of them, only Legolas could walk atop the snow, and the others would be in danger of losing the path and just go down with another avalanche if they did not freeze first. And the Hobbits were nearly frozen to death already, anyway. Boromir had tried again then to talk the others into risking the path west of the mountains, down to Minas Tirith, but again he had been overruled. The company instead decided to go through Moria, whereever that might be. That was, if they could survive the night and make it down at all. They had found cover under a small ledge of rock, not much to keep the wind away, but at least enough to protect them from falling stones; but the temperature was freezing, and none of them had been able to start a fire.  
  
Neither Boromir himself nor the Dunadan, nor the Hobbits or the Elf, and not even that Dwarf, had succeeded in getting any of the wet faggots of wood they had brought to burn. The members of the company were desperate. Starting a fire was no matter of secrecy or risk of discovery anymore, but a matter of sheer survival.  
  
At last, reluctantly, Gandalf himself took a hand. Picking up a faggot he held it aloft for a moment, and then with a word of command, _naur an edraith ammen!_ he thrust the end of his staff into the midst of it. At once a great spout of green and blue flame sprang out, and the wood flared and sputtered.  
  
"If here are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them," he said. "I have written _Gandalf is here_ in signs that that all can read from Rivendell to the mouth of Anduin. (2)"  
  
Aragorn shrugged. "At least hopefully we will be still alive tomorrow to be concerned if we have been seen," he said grimly, "if we are lucky." He looked around. "Legolas, I believe it is your turn to take the first watch."  
  
The Elf gave him an obedient nod, and the Ranger made as if to settle down beside the fire, near Gandalf, but Boromir shook his head.  
  
"Oh, no!" he growled. "You agreed that Legolas and you should take the watch tonight. So you can take the first. You may take comfort of the fire soon enough, but first leave it to the Hobbits!"  
  
Aragorn turned around to him, and they glared at each other.  
  
After a moment, though, the Ranger averted his eyes and bowed his head.  
  
"All right," he relented, "if you insist. I will leave Legolas the second watch, then."  
  
And without another word, he trudged off to the edge of the camp, gesturing to his Elf with a short sign to stay behind.  
  
Puzzled, Legolas obeyed.  
  
Gandalf stared at them, drawing his eyebrows down. "What was all this about, Son of Denethor?" he demanded.  
  
But Boromir wouldn't relent. "Just the matter of a promise," he said. "He _did_ offer yesterday evening, after all."  
  
Gandalf still stared at him, but then he relented. Soon, he and the Hobbits were settled around the fire, and Gimli placed himself as close to them as he could get while leaving them the best places.  
  
Boromir turned to the Elf, who stood a bit aside. "Legolas, if you don't mind, I would have words with you."  
  
He saw the startled look of the Elf and nearly scowled. "Come, Master Elf, since we are to leave the fire to the Hobbits, we can as well share warmth. I will not bite," he said.  
  
He placed his bedroll on the ground and sat on it, patting the place beside himself invitingly. "Are you coming?"  
  
The Elf hesitated. But then, after a moment and a quick look at the back of his master, who stared obliviously out into the storm, he relented. Reluctantly, he sat down beside the other Adan, and at Boromir's unmistakable gesture, he settled against him.  
  
Disbelievingly, he whispered: "You would have me _here?!_ "  
  
Boromir snorted. "I crave the pleasure of your company again, Sir Elf, but I want to enjoy it, not to freeze myself! No, I just mean to share a little warmth, and to ask you some questions."  
  
He paused to settle his coat – and one of his blankets – around them as comfortably as he could. "I believe, you owe me some explanations."  
  
Reluctantly, but obediently, the Elf suffered the man to wrap the blanket around them. He could not yet bring himself to snuggle against him, as he would have done with Aragorn; but he stayed close enough that indeed their bodies had the chance to share some warmth.  
  
"What would you wish to know?" he finally asked carefully.  
  
Boromir sighed.  
  
"I would wish you to tell me the truth," he said. "How much of it was true? Of what you told me?"  
  
Legolas stared at him uncomprehendingly. "About what?" he asked.  
  
Boromir scowled. "About you!" he said. "What you told me about your home, about yourself, a fortnight ago. Soon after this quest started."  
  
Legolas bowed his head. That seemed an eternity in the past, now.  
  
Looking up again and meeting the Gondorian's eyes, he said quietly: "Everything was true, Master Boromir. I just left out a few things."  
  
Boromir made a face. "Like the fact that you are a slave."  
  
Legolas looked away. He fought down his bitterness and swallowed his dismay and his anger. "Among other things," he replied.  
  
 _He had known that this conversation was coming. So why did he feel such disappointment, now?_  
  
"Or that your realm is a subjected realm and you haven't been there for a long time," Boromir added cruelly.  
  
Legolas was silent for some time. He could have tried to explain this to the Adan, but why bother?  
  
Finally, he said: "You heard my master. I am a hostage, Boromir. Do you not have the custom of giving and taking hostages from subjected realms in Gondor?"  
  
 _There had been none, he knew, when he and Aragorn had been there, because at that time Gondor mainly fought wars with Mordor and with the Pirates of Umbar, and with both enemies there would be no giving in or any exchange of hostages. But he also knew that there had been such exchanges in Gondor's past, and maybe they had renewed that custom now, in recent times, in the many small skirmishes Gondor had with Harad (3)..._  
  
Boromir stared at him incredulously. "Of course we do," he began, "but..."  
  
After a moment, his mouth became a thin line. _**"Not like this!"**_ he said then. "You're not a hostage, you're a _slave_. And Aragorn said you belong to him as property."  
  
Legolas sighed. "I was given to his foster-father as a hostage," he said tiredly. "And ...Elrond... later gave me to my master as a slave. My realm is subjected, Boromir. That doesn't mean my people do not fight the Darkness as well as yours do."  
  
Boromir looked at him sceptically. "So, how long have you been in Aragorn's possession?" he asked.  
  
"I've been in my master's possession for sixty-seven of your years," Legolas replied. He felt tired and drained. "Aragorn told you they gave me to him when he came of age."  
  
Boromir stared. He had not known the other man – the Ranger - was that old. "Then Aragorn must be-" he began, quickly doing the math.  
  
"He's Dunadan," Legolas replied. "They are graced with long life."  
  
Boromir pursed his lips. So the Ranger probably _was_ of Isildur's line. Only the pure Dunedain had such a long life span, and there were few of those left in the South. Even his own line was not that long-lived anymore.  
  
But that was neither here nor there.  
  
"And how long had you been a slave before that?" he demanded harshly, to confirm his suspicion that the Elf could hardly have been present for much of the fighting he had claimed his people to have done.  
  
Legolas was taken aback by his harshness.  
  
"I have been enslaved for seventy-six of your years," he nevertheless replied carefully.  
  
Boromir stared at him. "And you haven't been to your home for all that time?" he asked.  
  
 _So much for the Elf's claim to be a warrior of his people and to have fought the Nazgul!_  
  
Legolas looked away. "I... have been... there a few times, since," he replied quietly.  
  
 _Four times. Four times he had he seen his father, his people, his family again. What an incredibly precious and at the same time painful gift that had been! And given to him by Estel just because his master had wanted to do him a favor..._  
  
Very quietly, sensing Boromir's incredulous silence, he added: "My master took me there."  
  
Boromir stared at him. " _He took you there?_ A _hostage?_ Just like that? And your people let you go again? They didn't keep you?"  
  
Legolas shrugged and looked back at him. "I'm bound to him by the spell," he reminded coolly, "I'm bound to my master with my very life. I can hardly simply run away. Nor am I the only hostage. Did you hear nothing of what Aragorn has said? If I rebel, or if my people had kept me at their home, it would spell death to the others. Do you think I would risk that?"  
  
  
Less sharply he added: "And besides, I am bound by oath to serve my master. Do you not honor an oath in Gondor?"  
  
Boromir still just stared at him. "Bound to serve him as a _whore_ ," he then said incredulously, "and under a spell that threatens your very life if you refuse. And you would call this 'honor'?!"  
  
For a moment he looked as if he would recoil from the Elf's body with disgust.  
  
Finally, he added in disbelief: "And your people agreed to give their own into slavery like this? Are you truly a son of a king?!"  
  
He seemed horrified and disgusted.  
  
Legolas looked away again. "They didn't give me away," he said bitterly. "I offered to go myself. There was no other choice."  
  
Boromir stared at him, for a few moments stunned into silence. Then he asked: "You **offered** yourself?! For **that**?!"  
  
This time he _did_ recoil, let go of the Elf's body and sat a back a little to bring space between them.  
  
"How could your father, could your people ever agree to terms like _**that**_?! I would have rather died to subject myself to that! And so would my city!"  
  
Legolas had stared out into the snow. Now he whipped around to him again. "Even if it meant the death of all your people?! To the last warrior, woman and child?!" he asked bitterly. "Would you refuse even then?!"  
  
Boromir answered without hesitation. "Even then we would rather make a stand. Gondor would never submit to such terms. Nor would my father!"  
  
In truth, he was not completely sure if Denethor would not agree to send a few of his nobles into slavery to save his city – that he not even would send Faramir as hostage, if that was required – and then happily abandon all the hostages given as soon as Gondor could hope to fight back again. To be precise, he was not sure if not his little brother, under such conditions, would also offer himself up. But he was very sure that **he** , Boromir, would never let that happen, as long as he lived!(4)  
  
Legolas retorted angrily: _"Then obviously, we do not see eye to eye in this!"_  
  
And with that, he was gone, jumping up and stalking off into the night in the direction of the edge of the camp, probably to relieve the Ranger from his turn of watch.  
  
Boromir remained seated, staring a little puzzled at his retreating back.  
  
 _'He can't be much of a fighter,'_ he mused. _'His people must be weak if they agreed to such terms. And so is he! And he has precious little reason to be that grateful to this Ranger who lends him out to others at a whim and abuses him whenever he thinks his bed-toy did something wrong... Well, maybe all I must do is show him that I am stronger than the Dunadan, and that it is in his best interest to turn to me. If anything, he of all people should understand my wish to use the Ring....'_  
  
With new found resolve, he planned how he could turn the Elven slave away from his current master.  
  
Neither him nor Legolas noticed the shrewd and unreadable eyes of the Dwarf watching their exchange. Looking first after the retreating Elf, then at Boromir, Gimli turned around and busied himself with preparing his pipe.  
  
  
_____________ o ________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) This and the following lines of dialogue are again directly lifted from the movie (The Fellowship of the Ring, directed by Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema, DVD extended edition). I changed the context, of course.  
  
(2) This paragraph and the one before are again directly lifted from the book: J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of The Rings, 1954-1955, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1995, Page 283.  
  
(3) I am aware that the Appendix B of LOTR with the count of years knows of no such skirmishes, but then, the 'Count of Years' obviously shows only the greatest threats. So, in my time line, I assume there were a few smaller skirmishes, rather raids really, between Gondor and Harad. Boromir referred to those actually in an earlier chapter of my tale. Please bear with me!  
  
(4) I remind everyone that this is _**movie-Denethor**_ we talk about here: mad as a batshit and hating Faramir with a passion. _Bookverse_ Denethor would probably also have offered the nobles up, and then happily abandoned them – but hardly his own son, even the one influenced by Mithrandir!


	41. Night On Caradhras

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
________________________

  
  
**XXXIX. Night on Caradhras  
**  
  
Aragorn was somewhat astonished when he found himself approached by his slave long before his watch was over. The Elf seemed edgy, but determined.  
  
"Please, My Lord," he said, "'Tis much too cold for you to stand alone far from the fire. Let me relieve you."  
  
Hesitantly, Aragorn turned to him and gave him a questioning look. "I agreed last evening to take the first watch tonight," he reminded his slave mildly, "Boromir is right in this. And you need your rest as much as anybody else, Little Leaf."  
  
He cast a concerned look at the tired, tight face of his Elf. _Last night when they returned to the camp Legolas was nearly dreaming on his feet. And if Aragorn recalled correctly, the Elf had not found peaceful dreams afterwards, either._  
  
Legolas looked down, then he met his master's gaze again. "I doubt that anyone of us will find much rest, tonight," he said, "and sleep may bring the danger of freezing. But nonetheless I am much more resistant to the cold than you. Please, My Lord, let me take over. You are in need of the warmth of the fire more than I."  
  
Aragorn looked at him and narrowed his eyes. He could tell that his slave was hiding something; something was troubling the Elf's mind. But he knew he would probably not get an answer if he asked, at least not willingly; and right now, he was loath to force the matter. And in truth, Legolas' reasoning was right, although normally Aragorn would not have skirted his duty willingly. But he had other reasons to wish for an early relief from his watch.  
  
There were some questions he wanted to ask the wizard. And he would prefer it if Legolas did not hear that conversation.  
  
So, after a moment, he nodded and briefly touched his slave's arm.  
  
"All right," he said quietly. "You may take over now. But remind me that I owe you for this."  
  
Legolas just nodded and gave him a bow.  
  
Troubled and concerned, but determined not to lose his opportunity, Aragorn decided to let it lie for now.  
  
He gave Legolas a last, quick pat on the shoulder and stepped around him to walk the few paces to the fire, leaving the Elf staring motionlessly out into the night.  
  
_________________ o _____________  
  
  
Gandalf looked up when Aragorn settled beside him near the fire. His brows knitted.  
  
"Your watch is over already?" he asked with some disapproval.  
  
Aragorn just shrugged. "Legolas relieved me," he said simply. "He insisted." Then he added in Silvain: "I would have words with you."  
  
Gandalf watched him under his bushy brows and assessed him long and carefully. Finally he moved to get a more comfortable position. He took out his pipe.  
  
"It took you long enough to seek my counsel, son of Arathorn," he drawled in the same language, "especially since I assume this is not about the way our company should take on the morrow."  
  
Aragorn held his gaze. "No, it is not," he said. "I need to talk to you about my Elf."  
  
Gandalf's eyes seemed to pierce through him. "I thought so," he said. "What is it that you wish to ask of me? You have seemed pretty determined so far to hand him around, involving everyone else, .but never seeking **my** counsel."  
  
Aragorn flinched. But then, he squared his shoulders and countered the gaze of the wizard with one of his own.  
  
"Do you really mean to tell me," he challenged, "you didn't know Legolas was under the _Mael-Gûl?_ "  
  
Gandalf's face crumbled and lost some of the sharp expression.  
  
"I knew of course he was a Mirkwood-hostage," he said, "and that he was under the spell. The event when Elrond put him under it was infamous enough, after all! But I thought that he was only bound to Elrond, and maybe his sons, and that the bond wasn't wound very tightly, so it needed renewal only every few decades. I thought Elrond had given him into your care, to serve you between the... feeding of the spell, and would renew the spell himself, as he does with quite a few Mirkwood hostages. And that this was the reason why you and Legolas returned to Rivendell at least every few decades."  
  
He bowed his head and concentrated on his pipe. "I truly did not realize that he was bound to you." Grimacing, he added: "Apparently, I have been a fool. And worse, a blind and deaf fool, at that."  
  
Aragorn stared at him sceptically. _"You want me to believe..."_ he began.  
  
Gandalf looked up at him again and caught him with his gaze.  
  
"What do you wish to hear?" he asked sharply. "You always treated him more as your comrade than your slave, at least when the three of us were together. I knew of course that the two of you were lovers. But Legolas seemed quite happy while he was with you. I simply thought that the Mirkwood prince had been very lucky that Elrond decided to give him into your care."  
  
Aragorn flinched again. He could not withstand the wizard's gaze any longer and looked away. Gandalf wondered at the sudden pain on the Ranger's face.  
  
"And so thought he, at the start," Aragorn said tonelessly, "and so thought I." It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but he merely stopped speaking. He took a deep breath.  
  
Gandalf still stared at him. "You mean to tell me, son of Arathorn, that you agreed to bind the one you loved with so tightly a bond?" he asked carefully and with an underlying sharpness, "even if you knew that it would endanger your lover's life whenever you were merely delayed in feeding the curse you helped to lay on him?!"  
  
For a moment, Aragorn's face was sad and forlorn. Then it turned grim.  
  
"I was a fool," he admitted. "At that time, we were very much in love. We shared each other every chance we got. What bad could there be if that would also serve to feed the spell? What harm could come of it?"  
  
He shook his head. "I claim no excuse for my foolishness, except that I was very young and did not think with my head alone. And when I learned what I had done, it was too late." He stopped.  
  
Gandalf prepared his pipe. Slowly and thoughtfully, he said: "I think, he still loved you, you know. At least until you decided to share him with whoever asked for him the other night."  
  
Aragorn flinched anew. "I deserved that," he said after a moment, grimly. Then, finally, he looked up again and met Gandalf's gaze.  
  
"I did not mean to speak to you about deeds in the past," he confessed. "I mean to ask you if there's any way you know or can conceive to break this accursed spell?"  
  
Gandalf raised his brows. He stared back at the Dunadan in apparent surprise.  
  
"You would do that?" he asked, "If there was a chance? You would have me set him free, even if it meant that he might choose to leave you?"  
  
Aragorn grimaced again. He looked miserable. Still, he managed to say with quiet determination: "Yes. I would have you do it even then. I..." He stopped. He looked down and swallowed, hard. Finally, he looked up again and met Gandalf's gaze.  
  
"Legolas is very dear to me. I... I want him to be happy. Even if that means that he may seek his happiness elsewhere and leave me. I would have him free to choose again, if it can be done."  
  
Gandalf looked at him shrewdly. "And you think he would leave you if he had the choice?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn had to look away again. "How could he not?" he asked, then he trailed off. Finally, after a long pause, he admitted: "I would be happy beyond measure if he would choose to stay with me, but I fear that will not happen. He has been my slave for far too long. I... do not think he would... want to be bound to me... if he was free to go."  
  
Finally, he looked back at the wizard. "Anyway, he needs to be free to have the choice. So, will you look into it? Will you try to find a way?"  
  
Gandalf looked back at him, appraising and deep in thought. 'So you are not completely lost yet, king-of-men' he thought. _'Well, well, well. Isn't that interesting. It seems that there is still some hope left here for men. And you are so sure that if he was freed your Elf would run away. The Mirkwood prince might yet surprise you. Still...'_  
  
Aloud he said: "I will. Although we will have to tread with care, since we can't risk stirring the wrath of the two Elven realms too soon; this must be done in secrecy, until we can hope to tread more openly. But do not raise your hopes too high," he warned at Aragorn's intent expression, "From all I know about that spell, it was conceived with the help of one of the great Rings. It may well be that it can't be unmade as long as their power lasts. Maybe this very Quest we undertake will be our best hope to see the curse broken."  
  
Aragorn perked up. "How so?"  
  
Gandalf leaned forward, took a splint from the fire and lit his pipe.  
  
"Well, you see," he said, "the wise are not completely sure what will happen to the Three when the One is unmade. But most think that the power of the Three will fade, and all their works will come undone. It may not vanish all at once; it may take decades or even centuries for their works to unravel. But in the end, all that the Three enforced, may fade. So, if the spell was made with the help of one of the Three, then once the One is unmade it will probably begin to fade and lose its power."  
  
Aragorn let out a long breath. "So if we succeed in this Quest, Legolas and all his people will be free?" he asked.  
  
Gandalf shook his head. "I warned you not to raise your hopes too high," he said. "I hope so, yes, but we don't know for sure. And in any case we don't know how fast it will happen. As I said, it may take decades or even centuries for the last tendrils of that evil curse to fade completely."  
  
The hope in Aragorn's eyes dimmed. "Centuries," he said slowly. "That would be too slow for Legolas. Unless I could convince him to go to Glorfindel, or choose another Elf to whom the spell could be extended when I die."  
  
Gandalf looked at him musingly.  
  
"You assume too much," he warned. "If the curse can indeed be broken, the effect may not be entirely what you hope. It may well be that Legolas, and all the other Elves under the curse, may not survive when the curse is broken."  
  
Aragorn looked at him startled and alarmed. "But – _why?!_ " he asked, "Why should that happen?"  
  
Gandalf took a puff at his pipe. He looked troubled.  
  
"Well, summarize the effects of the spell for me once more, would you?" he invited.  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes. Reluctantly, he said: "It makes the... victim dependent on the attentions of his master. The victim has to be... taken regularly, or he will fall ill and die."  
  
Gandalf grimaced, face laced in sorrow. "Yes, and that is bad enough," he said, "and yet that is not all, is it?"  
  
Aragorn looked at him, brows drawn.  
  
Gandalf took a few more puffs of his pipe. "You know, of course, what usually happens if an Elf is forced to endure a physical union?" he asked, "Against the victim's will and own desire?"  
  
Aragorn made a face again. "Rape, you mean," he said. "Yes, of course. An Elf who is raped will die, except under the spell. The spell prevents it."  
  
His eyes widened in sudden understanding.  
  
Gandalf looked at him, waiting.  
  
Aragorn stared back at him. He paled. "The spell prevents an Elf from dying of grief, of rape or a disturbed bond..." he quoted what he once had been told by Elrond. He trailed off. _"You cannot mean..."_  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "The spell prevents the Elves subjected to the curse from dying from an enforced union, he said, "but to cast the spell, the victim must be taken by force by the one who cast it. And the very essence of the spell means that that abuse must be repeated again and again. So, when the spell is broken, I deem there is a distinct possibility that most Elves who were subjected to it will simply fade."  
  
For a moment, Aragorn stared back at him, dumbfounded. Then he shook his head.  
  
"No," he said, "I do not think so. Legolas is strong. If there was any chance that he would die of grief, or of the rape, it would have been shortly after he was enslaved. But that was decades in the past. Since then, he has not been raped again, at least not while he was in my care and I did not have to share him with my brothers. He will survive, I am sure of it."  
  
He thought a moment.  
  
"And a lot of the other Elves under the spell will survive, too, I think," he concluded, but then he trailed off and did not explain himself further.  
  
Gandalf looked back at the man he had long thought of as the 'Hope of men'.  
  
"What you, Gimli and Boromir did to Legolas just a few nights ago does not count as forced?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn looked away. "I don't think that this will kill him," he said. "And anyway, if we succeed, by whatever means, that night will have taken place weeks in the past. It will not kill him."  
  
He was clearly convinced and reassured by his own reasoning.  
  
Gandalf sighed. "Just do not blame me if it does not turn out the way you hope," he warned. "And there is still a distinct possibility that Legolas will choose to go to Mandos if he has a choice."  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. "I know," he said. "But I don't think he will."  
  
Gandalf looked at him thoughtfully.  
  
"I hope you are right, son of Arathorn," he said, "though for many Elves under that evil curse the way through Mandos may mean the way to healing. But answer me this. Even if all your hopes come true and the spell can indeed be broken, and Legolas survives and chooses to stay, what then? You will still have to marry eventually. You need an heir. You cannot bond to Legolas. And he might well die of grief then, anyway."  
  
Aragorn looked back at him, completely startled.  
  
"I doubt that Legolas, if he had but the choice, would choose to stay," he finally said very carefully. Again, there was pain in his voice, and Gandalf wondered at the source. "But if he did, I would be very happy, and I would hold him dear and cherish him to the end of my days."  
  
There was an odd kind of desperate hope as he said the latter. Still, his voice was laced with pain.  
  
Yet his answer left Gandalf puzzled. "What about Arwen?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn let out a deep breath. "I let Arwen go," he confessed. "I broke our betrothal before we departed for the Quest. Elrond demanded it of me. Arwen will pass over the sea and be safe from pain and harm there."  
  
There was deep pain in his voice and face, and Gandalf looked at him with sympathy.  
  
 _'So, you acted on your feelings rather than on what foresight told you was the right thing to do, Elrond Halfelven'_ he thought. _'Where else did you try to avert fate? And will it help, I wonder?'_  
  
Still this did not answer his question. So he asked simply: "And if she chose to stay?"  
  
Aragorn's face lit up at the prospect. Then he narrowed his eyes.  
  
"If Arwen stayed, and Legolas chose to stay, too, I am sure we can find an arrangement together. And if she is gone, and I find another wife, the same was true for her. But I do not see what this question has to do with anything."  
  
Gandalf's face darkened. "You would subject Elrond's daughter, or a noble lady of Gondor or Rohan, to this humiliation – to suffer you to have a lover on the side? You would break the laws of the Valar that easily, son of Arathorn?!"  
  
For a moment, he seemed greater than his earthly form, and there was a hint of power surrounding him.  
  
But Aragorn held his gaze, and he, too, seemed greater for a moment, the royal blood of Númenor shining through him.  
  
"Never will I believe," he said quietly and sharply, "that you or the Valar would deny a whole people's chance at freedom just because those people won't fit into the laws afterwards. But should I see myself be forced to break the laws of the Valar in this one point, and take what may count as two consorts instead of one, so be it. I will never deny Legolas. I once swore this to his father. And I will never let him go, unless it were his own choice. The Valar have tolerated the casting of that spell, and the enslavement of the Mirkwood Elves, so I think they are bound to tolerate a bit of untidiness once the spell is broken."  
  
Gandalf's eyes flashed with anger. The surge of power surrounding him became more apparent for a moment, and the other members of the Fellowship, who had not followed the conversation since it was held in Silvain, flinched and started.  
  
"Take care of what you speak, son of Arathorn," the wizard said sharply, "and do not tempt the powers you may yet need. If any of your hopes should come to pass, and if our mission succeeds, it will be only due to the grace of the Valar!"  
  
Aragorn held his gaze. "I am aware of that," he said. "Still – do you mean to tell me, that you would make the attempt to break that spell dependent on how I choose to conduct my love life?"  
  
Gandalf stared at him for another moment, then the power surrounding him seemed to disappear as if it had never been, and he seemed again the familiar old man with whom the Fellowship had traveled so long.  
  
Aragorn, too, seemed to change back to the weathered, grim man they knew.  
  
Gandalf let his shoulders slump a bit. "Of course not," he said, "still, you had better take care not to anger the Valar, son of Arathorn. Something tells me that you will dearly need their help before this quest is over."  
  
He sighed and took another pull at his pipe, but it had gone out. So he leaned forward and got a new splint from the fire to light it again. "Anyway, " he said, "of course I will try. None of us knows what the future may hold. We will see what it will bring us."  
  
He took a few puffs at his lightened pipe, then he looked up again. "Your request honors you. Just do not be too grieved if the outcome is not what you hope for. There are greater forces at work in this world, with greater wisdom than we may fathom, and some ends that may seem sad for us may indeed prove to be for the better. And anyway, it isn't sure yet that I will succeed. You realize, of course, that others before me have already tried to break that spell, and none have yet succeeded."  
  
Aragorn looked at him expectantly, but Gandalf just shook his head. He merely added: "So do not set your hopes too high. I may yet fail."  
  
Aragorn let out a deep breath. "All I ask is that you try," he said. "And I will always be in your debt if you do."  
  
Gandalf looked at him, musingly. "Very well," he finally said. "Now go and relieve that Elf of his watch, will you? Even the Eldar are not immune to the cold, and you both need your rest. I will take the last watch for the night myself." When Aragorn seemed to hesitate, he made a shooing motion.  
  
Obediently. Aragorn gave a little bow and rose. Standing, he bowed his head another time to the old wizard, revently and deeply. "Thank you, Gandalf" he said in Westron, "I am in your debt."  
  
And with that he turned and walked away.  
  
Gandalf stared after him, deep in thought. _'So you are not completely lost yet, Dúnadan,'_ he mused, _'but you are far along the road to darkness. The laws of the Valar mean little to you compared to your own heart. I wonder if that will prove your downfall, or if it will indeed be your salvation. But in any case, I greatly fear for your heart before the end.'_  
  
And for the rest of the night, he smoked on and would say no more.  
  
  
____________________ o ________________  
  
  
  
Legolas stood at the edge of the camp, well out of earshot of the others, and stared unseeing out into the night. For everyone looking at him it must have seemed as if he was intently listening and gazing out into the storm; but in truth, he hardly listened to the howling wind or saw the moving shapes of flying snow. It would have been pointless, anyway, for every noise was swallowed by the tempest out there after just a few paces, and any shape would have been hardly recognizable until it was already on top of them.  
  
Yet he doubted he would have heard anything, even had the night been completely silent. Boromir's words were resonating in his ears: _"How could your father, could your people ever agree to terms like **that**?! I would have rather died than subject myself to that! And so would my city!" _  
  
In his mind formed images he had not recalled but deliberately left sleeping for a long time.  
 _  
// /"No! Don't do that, please! Not for me! (1)"  
  
He heard his own, desperate voice, pleading to get past the grim anger and determination of his father.  
  
Thranduil just went on with his preparations. Drawing lines on the map on his great desk table, he went on: "Mitharas, you take the contingent at the left flank. Hide them well! Belldoron, you hide your warriors deeper in the forest and wait for our signal to come out. And you, Laeghador(2), you will take the right flank and hide there. This time, we will give him an unwelcome surprise."  
  
The warriors surrounding him looked pale and troubled, but determined. They knew this was to be their last stand, and that it would probably end in disaster. But there was not one who thought to protest.  
  
Except their prince.  
  
Legolas tried again. "Please, father, hear me! Stop this! This is suicide. We cannot do this and survive. Not now!"  
  
Finally, Thranduil looked up at him.  
  
"Stop interfering, Legolas! This has gone on long enough. This time we make our stand!"  
  
Legolas shook his head in desperation. "Please, father, no! This is madness! We've lost too many warriors in that battle out at Dale. Too many of the others are wounded! We wouldn't stand a chance!" He held his father's gaze, and could read the pain and the desperation in them. Intently, he tried again:  
  
"Would you risk us all, all your people, after all this time? We are outnumbered. You heard our scouts! That Noldo bastard has his whole host down in the south at Dol Guldur, where he battled the Necromancer, and all the forces of Lothlorien. If he brings them here, we do not stand a chance! Wait at least until our warriors are recovered..."  
  
Thranduil's face was grim. "There is no time! The date he has set is now! And in any case, I have not that time, either. I cannot wait until they are recovered!"  
  
His gaze rested on Legolas with anger and despair. "Don't you understand? You are my last remaining son and heir. I cannot allow Elrond to take you, too!"  
  
Legolas bit his lips and shook his head.  
  
"I am not worth that," he said. "Not your death, nor that of our people. Please, cease this madness. Do not do this. Not for me!"  
  
Thranduil's gaze, grim as it was, lingered on him, and after a moment, it softened.  
  
"When, if not now?" he asked. "My warriors agree with me on this. I cannot let him take you, too."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Do not fear. We will give them a costly fight. And in these halls, our people will hold out for a long time. Here he can not besiege you. Not during the winter, anyway."  
  
He sighed and came around the table to stand before his son. "The Orcs in the north are overthrown. Smaug is gone. You will make a good king, Legolas. If you can only hold out until spring..."  
  
Legolas shook his head. "And if Elrond burns the wood, as he has threatened to do? Then our people starve. We have shared too much of what we had with Laketown. Elrond just needs to set a guard to stop us coming out and trading for more supplies. Then he can wait and take the last of us one by one when we need to come out in spring. He has threatened to put all Mirkwood to the sword if you refuse his demands," he reminded him.  
  
Holding his father's gaze, he took a deep breath. "Please, Adar! One more century may see us strong enough to throw off their yoke. For good. If our people are led by an **experienced** leader. Under **your** rule. Not mine."  
  
Thranduil clenched his jaw. "Legolas..."  
  
For long moments, they faced each other. Behind them, one of the advisors cleared his throat. He said hesitantly:  
"Maybe it will not come to that. That Noldor bastard has accepted our refuse to hand over the prince before. He may do so again. And we have just done those Noldorim a favor, after all, by decimating the Orcs here in the north. That must count for something! Even Mithrandir said so when he came, and he had been at Elrond's camp before..."  
  
Thranduil's face was grim. "Mithrandir won't be there! He has already left for the mountain passes with that Hobbit. And I ceased to trust in Elrond's sense of justice long ago."  
  
One of the generals spoke up. "At least, we could try to play for time. If we had a just few more weeks to get supplies..."  
  
Thranduil cast him an unreadable gaze, then he turned around and grabbed the desk. He bowed his head and supported himself. They could all see him slightly trembling, holding himself in check with all of his remarkable strength of will.  
  
"I do not have a few more weeks, I fear," he said. "I doubt I have a month."  
  
Legolas closed his eyes.  
  
"Please, Adar, let me go," he said. " **You** are the one our people need and who can give them hope. They need their king experienced and strong. Not me."  
  
Thranduil turned back to him. "You are my heir," he said. "I cannot let them take you, too! What hope would there remain for us if I let Elrond take my last remaining heir unchallenged?" The nobles in the room flinched under the palpable pain and despair in his voice.  
  
Legolas shook his head. "You have other heirs," he pointed out. "Silivren's oldest son will be a good king, if it comes to that. And with any luck, before the end of the next yen, we may yet be strong enough to make a stand." He opened his eyes again. "Please. Let me do this."  
  
Some of the Sindar nobles in the room looked at him with raised brows. Normally, kingship did not run in the female line, although the house of Oropher itself descended from Elmo, Elu Thingol's brother, through the female line, and founded quite some part of their claim to kingship on that very line of ancestry. But then, most of Thranduil's Silvain subjects looked at things somewhat differently and recognized the noble heritage and claim to leadership of Legolas' and Silivren's late mother, herself one of the highest Silvain nobles of the former Greenwood; a marriage that had been made for love, and had yet considerately strengthened Oropher's rule at the time, even though it had been Thranduil, his son, who linked the families together(3).  
  
Yet none of the present nobles dared to comment on Legolas words. They barely dared to breathe.  
  
Thranduil bowed his head. "Legolas..." he croaked, and again the assembled nobles flinched under his voice.  
  
The prince went down on one knee before his father.  
  
"Please, my Lord. I am your son and under your command, but I do know my duty to the realm. I cannot let my king and father die for me, nor can I let this happen to my people. Please, let me do this."  
  
Thranduil closed his eyes. They could see him tremble, fighting a silent, painful battle with himself.  
  
Finally, he nodded.  
  
"So be it," he croaked out, nearly tonelessly. Then he raised his voice and looked around.  
  
"Leave me alone!" he commanded. "Legolas, you stay.  I... I need to take my leave of you, ion(4)." His voice died.  
  
Silently, the nobles filed out of the room, leaving the king and their prince alone./ //_  
  
______________ o ________________  
  
  
Legolas continued staring blindly into the howling night. He had never doubted the wisdom of his decisions then, before, although he had, for a long time, known that he had completely overestimated his own strength to bear all that Elrond might have in store for him, and had known himself for a fool and worse that he had ever thought himself strong enough to deal with it. Without Glorfindel, and Estel, he would have lost his mind and gone stark raving mad quite soon after his enslavement.  
  
But always he had been sure he had done the right thing.  
  
Now, Boromir's words resonated in his head.  
  
 _ **'Fool!'**_ a cynical, hateful voice hissed in his mind, _'Your father was ready to end it then and there! Your warriors were ready to make a stand, and you denied them! You are your father's son, he counted on you as his last remaining heir – and you refused him! Refused to do your duty, make a stand, lead your people in the last, desperate battle – and for what? Another yen's worth of humiliation (5)? Coward! You are not worthy to be called your people's prince, your father's son! Was it so much easier, then, to give in and let yourself be enslaved, than to accept your responsibility?'_  
  
Inwardly, Legolas cringed under the sudden accusation. _'We didn't have a chance,'_ he tried to convince himself, _'we would have died! They would have died – all our people; men, women and children. Elrond was ready to kill them all. He would have done so! He would have burned our wood to the ground!'_  
  
But the voice inside his head sneered at him. _'They were ready to take the risk;' it sneered, 'they were ready to choose death if that was the only way to freedom! You were your father's heir – they would have followed you, they would have put up a fight! And you have let them down. By your refusal, you convinced your father to give in, bear the burden another yen – and for what? Next yen, Elrond will demand Silivren, or maybe her son – and then your father won't have a son to take over after the unfed spell has killed him. But you were too much of a coward to follow his command. Instead you gave yourself to slavery!'_  
  
Legolas bit his lips. _'They live,'_ he tried to convince himself, _'they live and they are safe. They would have died. We were outnumbered. It would have been suicide. It was the only way.'_  
  
But the voice replied: _'Your warriors were ready, then. Who says they will have the same chance again? And whose fault was it that you were outnumbered? Had your father gone through with his plan, you could have given Elrond and his minions a costly fight! But no, you had to convince him to give in, force him to bow his head again and doom your people to another yen of slavery, with your **'noble sacrifice'.**...'_  
  
And with a flash, the memories unfolded in his mind, took him back to that fateful day, forced him to remember.  
  
 _// / In the end, they had settled on a compromise: Legolas would come along to the yen ceremony, and Thranduil would not bring his host to force a last, desperate stand. But he would not simply hand his son over, either. They would try to get Elrond and his allies to give up on his demand to take Thranduil's last remaining son in light of the recent support the Mirkwood Elves had given to the people of Laketown and Dale and to the Dwarves in the Battle of the Five Armies, a battle that helped to put an end to the threat of Orcs in the north for a long time.  
  
It had been a foolish hope, and it had ended in disaster. As it turned out, Elrond had urged his host on relentlessly and so he had indeed brought the combined troops of Rivendell and Lothlorien up from Dol Guldur in full force and in much less time than expected. He really was ready to burn the woods if he was denied. And it was clear that he just waited for an excuse to do so. Indeed, far from being pleased that Thranduil had taken care of his responsibility as ruler in the north and brought his army up to Laketown and Erebor to intervene as needed, Elrond accused Thranduil of partaking in that war without his permission and just to ensure a part of the dragon treasure for himself. And he insisted that there needed to be 'punishment' for that.  
  
To this day, Legolas could recall the Noldo's sneering face, when Elrond turned to his father.  
  
"I should deny you," the hated Elflord spat, "and let you die, and put your people to the sword and let you watch while your woods are burning!" He sneered "I wonder how long it would take you to die while the spell remains unfed. I think you may yet last long enough at least to watch the spectacle...."  
  
Outnumbered and frozen, Thranduil had stood, face pale and defiant, fists balled, and fought the impulse to end it by attacking Elrond then and there. They were at surrounded and at arrow's-point; he would probably not have been fast enough to even reach he Peredhel before the arrows pierced his heart, but he was nearly beyond caring.  
  
Just then, a noble, silver haired Elf of Elrond's entourage spoke up.  
  
"Elrond," he said, "that would be most unwise. Thranduil is still needed to fight the shadow here, and it would be foolish to let him die. He can be of much better use to us while he is alive."  
  
Elrond hardly looked around. He fixed his hateful gaze on the Mirkwood king.  
  
"You would say that, Celeborn," he sneered, "he is your kinsman after all! But I hardly think we need him anymore. We have just taken care of the Necromancer. Dol Guldur is free and left deserted. And the dragon is gone and the Orcs here in the north are decimated. We can keep balance without Thranduil and his little kingdom well enough. In fact, I wonder if it would not be better if we did."  
  
The silver-haired noble – Celeborn of Lothlorien, Legolas registered – shook his head. "We do still need him," he replied with unshaken calm, "the Necromancer will be back. He was not conquered; he just left Dol Guldur without a fight and withdrew to parts unknown, leaving us to deal with his creatures. And we got far too few of his Orcs as well.  
Doubtless, he will return again or send his minions back to that stronghold soon." He sighed and concluded calmly: "Therefore it would be foolish to let Thranduil die. I would advise you find another way of punishment."  
  
Elrond whipped around to him, annoyed, and for a few moments the two Elf lords just stared at each other. Then another Lord of Elrond's entourage, with golden hair, said quietly: "He is right, my Lord. Please! Do let Thranduil live."  
  
Elrond gave him a sour look, as if he wanted to say: 'You, too, defy me then?' - but then he merely turned to the Mirkwood Elves again and fixed Thranduil with his baleful glare.  
  
"Very well, Mirkwood king. So I will feed the spell. But as a punishment for your disloyalty, you will have to give me your last free son. I told you already that I would demand him. Now I see that I will dearly need such as him as a hostage to ensure your doubtful loyalty."  
  
He saw the paling of his adversary's face, the sudden flash of pain, and his face held dark triumph. Clearly and deliberately he went on: "You will hand him over, and he will be put under the spell. If you do not, we'll burn the wood and kill all Mirkwood Elves, and you'll be left to die. For if you deny us in this, it is clear that you have planned treachery and it is better to take care of you once and for all!"  
  
Celeborn intervened anew. "Elrond!" he began, paling, "You cannot..."  
  
But Elrond was adamant. "No," he spat. "I have already told him that before. It is no news to him that he was to give us his son. If he gives him to us now, then I will relent and I will ask no more. But if he does not, we cannot trust him and he would be of no more use to us, anyway!"  
  
Pushed beyond caring and boiling with anger, Thranduil tensed for attack. He was angry and desperate enough to throw all care to the wind and risk a fight, although he had come there only with a small entourage and none of the warriors he brought would survive it.  
  
Not even his own son.  
  
At that point, Legolas could not take it anymore. Standing forth, he knelt again before his father and asked him not to sacrifice their people, but to allow him to go and offer himself up.  
  
Thranduil was choked with grief, and for a long moment, he nearly couldn't answer.  
  
But then, bereft of any true alternatives – because if he refused, they would both die, and Mirkwood's people would soon follow, too – he relented.  
  
Legolas stood and turned to Elrond, suffering the guard taking hold of him.  
  
Elrond regarded him maliciously. "Ah, here you are, little... prince," he said. "I should just take you and deny your father anyway. "  
  
Legolas paled. But the silver haired Elf and the other, blond one both spoke up. "Nay Elrond," Celeborn intervened again, "You gave your word, remember? You said if you got Legolas, there would be no other punishment."  
  
The golden headed Noldo added: "Please, my liege. Let it not be said you went back on your word."  
  
Elrond scowled and glared at Legolas. Then, finally, he nodded. "Very well, Mirkwood spawn" he said tersely, "so your father and your wood will live." He made a pause. " **This** time!"  
  
Then he gave his guards a sign to drag Legolas away and prepare for the ceremony.  
  
But later, when he put Legolas under the spell, he forced Thranduil to watch the rape and enslavement of his only remaining son./ //_  
  
  
Back in the present, Legolas shivered, inwardly cringing under the assault of the images in his head and the cold, renewed horror they brought.  
  
But the memories assaulting him were not the worst.  
  
 _ **'Because of you'**_ the hateful voice accused, _'he went there without his warriors! Because of **you** , he walked into the trap. Instead of making a last, desperate stand and leading your people into freedom, even if it be in death, you forced him to witness the rape of yet another child – a useless son, who would not live up to his duty as his father's heir when it was needed. And you didn't even manage to protect your people, as you so **'bravely'** declared, did you? Do you recall that elleth?'_  
  
Cringing, gasping, Legolas tried to bring his mind under control, to banish the voice from his head. He feared he would go mad.  
  
 _ **'But you can make it up to them'**_ the thought suddenly sprang into his head. _'You cannot change the past, but you can act now, reverse your mistake, secure the freedom of your people! Take the ring! Bring it to them! Your father is strong enough to wield its power, force it under his will... He would take it for himself and he could end this war at once. Force the Nazgul under his will, send them against Lothlorien, together with their Orcs! Take the warriors to Rivendell, make Elrond cringe and pay for all he's done... Estel took you yesterday. You have three weeks until it gets bad. You can cross the mountain in just one day. The cold does not faze you. The storm does not hinder you. You can run on the snow where others have to trudge through it! You can pass over the mountains like a ghost!'_  
  
Shell-shocked and wide eyed, Legolas jerked up, staring into the storm. The voice felt alien inside his mind but he could not close his thoughts to it. The voice went on: _'You could skirt Lothlorien, run up along the Anduin, find one of the settlements of woodmen there, steal or buy a horse... You are fast, and you would not be hindered by any companions. Three weeks would be enough to make it to your father's halls...'_  
  
Legolas nearly snorted. _'We are two weeks south from Rivendell. And on the other side of the Misties, there are the Gladden Fields, and the Carrocks, too. I'd hardly make it,'_ he reminded himself.  
  
But the voice in his head screamed: _' **Fool! Coward!** What other excuses will you find to skirt your duty to your people? You could make it! You could have made the whole way up from Rivendell without the Hobbits and the other mortals in much less time! A determined Elf, with an urgent goal, could find a way...'_  
  
Legolas shook his head, tried to banish the tempting voice from his mind, but the voice wasn't done.  
  
 _'It would be easy,'_ it seduced. _'Estel trusts you implicitly. He loves to have you close to him at night. Just a flick of your knife... he would be dead before he knew it. That man of Gondor would let you get close to him for a kiss. Just pretend that you have changed your mind, offer him a taste – you can kill him before he is any wiser. The Hobbits trust you. You can take care of them before they have a chance to scream or raise the alarm. Just shoot the Dwarf, and the wizard...'_  
  
Legolas shook. He could see it before his waking eyes – the images filled his mind, as much as he tried to close himself to them: _**the quick flick of the knife over Estel's throat, the short, desperate buckling of the body when the other blade found his master's heart – the look of shock and hurt betrayal in the eyes before they went dull and sightless... the man of Gondor, slumping when the blade found his heart, his scream drowning in the treacherous mouth that closed over his own... the Hobbits, without unaware of any danger, quickly dying in their sleep before they even knew what happened... Blood on the snow... Two quick shots to take care of the Dwarf and the wizard...**_  
  
Bile rose in his throat and he wrapped his arms around himself as if to fend off the images and gather his own strength.  
  
 _ **"I swore an oath,"**_ he reminded himself, _**"an oath!...**_ To protect the Ring Bearer and all free people with my life – to follow and serve Estel faithfully, under whatever circumstances..."  
  
 _'Estel betrayed you. He hurt you! You owe him nothing!'_ the voice hissed. _'And the life of the Hobbit, and whatever promise you gave to him, can't hold weight against the need of your people!...'_  
  
Legolas had had enough. Breathing hard, he gathered all his strength, all his considerable will, to force the hateful voice away. For a few moments, he felt as if his knees would buckle, then he regained control and straightened himself. He could not afford to let himself be weakened! He knew his duty, to his master, to the free people, and he knew the promises of the voice for lies. And yet, still the images assaulted him. He pierced his nails into the his palm to try and focus on the pain. If he could have done so without noticing of the others, he would have used one of his blades to cut himself. But they were out in the wilds and he could not afford to let himself be weakened.  
  
Trembling, but determined he stared out into the raging storm.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
  
______________ 0 _____________  
  
  
When Aragorn approached his Elf and carefully touched his shoulder, he was not prepared for Legolas' reaction. The Elf whipped around to him, wild-eyed, hands going to his knives. When he realized it was his master who approached him, he blushed and let go of his knives, then bowed his head. Aragorn actually took a step back and raised his hands, palms open.  
  
" _Careful,_ Little Leaf," he said, "you are supposed to _defend_ us from attacks, not the other way round."  
  
Legolas swallowed. "I am sorry, I..." he began, but trailed off.  
  
Aragorn took in his posture and the tension in his body. He narrowed his eyes. He had a very good idea what was happening, but he still carefully took a step closer and took the Elf by an arm. Carefully turning his slave around so Legolas' face was away from the camp, he leaned against him. "What is it, Little Leaf?" he asked quietly.  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. The closeness of his master made him nervous. He could hear the hated voice scream in his head, urging him to move. So easy – it would be so easy... just a flick with his knife, a movement, too quick for the human to avoid – _**'what are you waiting for?!'**_ the voice screamed at him, _'you can't allow him to grow suspicious! Just do it! **Do it now!!!'**_  
  
With all his strength, he fought the voice down. Shivering, he choked out: "It... is the Ring, Aragorn, it... tempts me..."  
  
 _ **'Fool!'**_ the voice cried at him, _**'Coward!** Now you have given it away! He will kill you now, take away your weapons!...'_  
  
But instead, Aragorn just grabbed him tighter and bowed his head.  
  
"Aye," the Adan nodded, bitterly and grimly. "Me, too."  
  
Legolas looked at him, somewhat startled. But his master didn't elaborate; he just shook his head. "Listen," Aragorn said then, determinedly and quietly, "whatever this thing offers you, do not believe it! It will offer you everything your heart desires, but it will lie. And you cannot gain as much as you would if it is destroyed."  
  
Legolas looked away. For a moment, the thought flickered through his mind to ask what the Ring might have offered Aragorn, but then he decided he didn't want to know. Still, he could not conquer his own pain. Bitterly, nearly too quietly to hear, he choked out: "How would you know?"  
  
He tensed in anticipation of a blow, but Aragorn didn't move. He just looked at him, apparently all too well capable of guessing his Elf's thoughts.  
  
"Listen," Aragorn began again, tiredly and quietly, "I spoke with Gandalf. He thinks that this very quest may be the way to break the spell. He thinks the spell will fade once the One is destroyed."  
  
Legolas looked up at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving, and Aragorn had to look down. "He isn't sure, though. But it is a chance. And if he is right, that is better than everything that thing can offer you."  
  
 _'How would you know?'_ Legolas thought. The voice screamed in his head: _'He lies! Do not listen to him! It is just another of his many promises, one of the many he has broken...'_ \- but he paid it no heed. Aloud he asked: "And if he is wrong?"  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath and met his eyes again. He chose not to tell Legolas the whole of his conversation with Gandalf. _Better not raise his hopes too high only to have them crushed._  
  
"If he is wrong, and the spell remains unbroken, you remain bound to me. But I promise you this: if this Quest succeeds, and if I truly should fulfill my fate, then I will do everything in my power to help you free your people. You recall what Glorfindel said back in Rivendell? And Gandalf? The Quest may be the way to change their fate. Don't throw away this chance by listening to that cursed piece of jewelry."  
  
Legolas stared at him, dumbfounded. "Estel," he said, "you..."  
  
Then he paled. _"You cannot offer this!_ What about Arwen? You would be forced..." he trailed off. The thought that Aragorn would actually think to fight his future father-in-law was staggering.  
  
Then another thought came to his mind, and he paled even more. "And what about the Lady?" he carefully asked. "We are passing through the Golden Wood. She can read minds..."  
  
Aragorn nodded bitterly. "Arwen will pass over the sea," he said. "I broke our troth before we departed at Elrond's request. And anyway, it is not as if Elrond and Galadriel didn't know this. It was Gandalf and Glorfindel, after all who brought it up, and before we departed. I do not think my thoughts will reveal anything new to her."  
  
He sighed. "But you are right. We should speak about all this no more. Just remember that whatever that thing may tell you, it will lie, and there are other ways to gain that which you hope for."  
  
Legolas stared at him for long moments, too stunned to reply. Then, finally, he asked very carefully: "Estel... why would you do this?"  
  
 _'He'll lie to you!'_ the voice cried in his mind, _'Do not believe him! It is all false promises, all lies!...'_  
  
He paid it no heed and concentrated instead on his master.  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. _'Isn't it obvious, Little Leaf?'_ he thought. But he did not say that.  
  
Instead he looked up and very carefully touched his longtime-companion's face. "Because I owe you, Little Leaf," he said. "Because I owe you that much."  
  
He trailed off and would say no more. After a long moment, he sighed and drew a deep breath.  
  
"Come," he said, "Gandalf sent me to relieve you from the watch. He says that he'll take over. It is cold, and there are few hours left until morning. Let us go back to the fire and seek what rest we may find. It will be a long, hard day, tomorrow."  
  
Legolas bowed to him and obeyed. He followed his master to the fire and settled beside him, and they did not speak another word for the rest of the night. After while, exhaustion got the better of Aragorn and he drifted off into sleep. The Elf at his side did not wake him. Only once did Legolas rouse, and in the flickering firelight gazed thoughtfully at the sleeping Aragorn's exposed throat, drawing a gentle finger across it. Then he sighed, snuggled back against his master's shoulder, and after a while he, too, dropped into reverie. The voice in his head was not entirely gone, but at least, for a little while, it was easier to ignore it(6).  
  
  
____________________ o __________________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
(1) I owe this scene, and some of the arguments provided therein, mainly to my reviewer Randy, who suggested that if Elrond had asked for Legolas to attend at that last yen ceremony and to be handed over, Thranduil would have planned to fight even to the death of all their people rather than handing over his last remaining son. Randy also provided some of the arguments Legolas uses here to talk his father out of this collective suicide, namely the one about the experienced ruler. Thank you!  
  
(2) _Sindarin names: Laeghador_ – Keen Thrower of Spears. _Mitharas_ \- Grey Deer. _Belldoron_ \- Strong Oak. (OC Names).  
  
(3) All of this is completely made up by me. Tolkien gives no information about the origins of the house of Oropher, except that Oropher was Sindar, the father of Thranduil and king before him (J.R.R. Tolkien, Unfinished Tales (edited by Christopher Tolkien), Allen & Uwin 1980, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1998, PP. 333ff). So Oropher must have been the founder of the Elven kingdom of Greenwood the Great at the beginning of the Second Age, and we may safely assume that he was a survivor of Doriath and likely had belonged to the late Sindar king Elu Thingol's court. We have no information about his wife, though, or about Thranduil's wife (Legolas' mother), nor any evidence for kinship between him and the royal house of the Sindar (nor do we know anything about the customs of the Silvain Elves).  
  
However, Celeborn calls Legolas 'kindred' when he meets him in Lothlorien in LOTR p. 346, and while he could have spoken generally, I choose to go with the interpretation that he indeed meant blood kin. Celeborn's ancestry as grandson of Elmo is given in UT pp. 302f. If Oropher was indeed from Elmo's line, and thus part of the royal house of the Sindar, this could have given his claim to kingship in Greenwood some added foundation. The idea that Elven kingship normally does not run in the female line was borrowed from the great story The Wisdom of Isildur by Marnie, whose Celeborn-stories are canonically well founded (well, if there _is_ anything like clear 'canon' in this case, considered that Tolkien rewrote the whole story of Celeborn and Galadriel several times) - and besides absolutely to die for!  
  
(4) _ion – Sindarin:_ son  
  
(5) _Yen – Sindarin:_ the elven year, counting 144 human years. In this story, Mirkwood had to give hostages to Rivendell and Lothlorien every yen.  
  
(6) That last image was suggested by my wonderful beta, the amazing Surreysmum. Thank you!


	42. Seeking The Sun

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **Special warning for this chapter** : very disturbing thoughts. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me! Also, I'd like to mention that I owe part of this chapter to a discussion with my reviewer Randy, again. Credits for the parts in question are given in the foot notes. Thank you!  
  
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide: _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXXX. Seeking the Sun**  
  
  
It was a dim, grey dawn, although the storm had settled, and finally the snow stopped altogether. The Fellowship woke slowly and to greyness. Shortly before, the last faggot of wood had been thrown on the fire, and now they stared glumly at the last glowing embers of the dying fire.  
  
Very slowly, the dim light grew stronger and revealed a silent, shrouded world.  
  
Below the refuge the Fellowship had found were white lumps and domes and shapeless deeps beneath which the path they had trodden was altogether lost; but the heights above were hidden in great clouds still heavy with the threat of snow.  
  
Gimli looked up and shook his head. "Caradhras has not forgiven us," he said. "He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better."1  
  
Aragorn made a face. "I doubt that it was merely Caradhras which flung those stones at us," he said. "And I doubt very much we could go on over the rocks now blocking our path. There was more than snow coming down with that avalanche."  
  
Gandalf looked grim. "It wasn't Caradhras alone," he said, "and we have no choice but to go down. There is no other path we can take now."  
  
Boromir looked sourly at the shrouded, white slope below.  
  
Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire, the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the Hobbits; in places it had scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.2  
  
"If we _can_ find a path to go back down," he said. "Now it would really convenient if we all could run atop the snow like some." And he cast a pointed look at the Elf, who was standing pale and somewhat aloof at the side.  
  
Legolas looked at him tiredly. He was cold, he was exhausted, and somewhere in the back of his mind he could still feel the whispers of the hated voice inside his head. He was troubled and he had enough of the constant jabbing of the man of Gondor.  
  
Faking a cheerfulness he did not feel he offered: "If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you."3  
  
Boromir gave him an askance look, trying to judge if he had been slighted, but before he could reply, he was cut off by the wizard.  
  
Gandalf made a face.  
  
"If Elves could fly over mountains, they could fetch the sun to save us," he answered. "But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow."  
  
Boromir shrugged. "Well," he said, "when heads are at a loss, bodies must serve; as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about shoulder of rock down yonder. If we could reach hat point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess."  
  
"Then let us force a path thither, you and I!" said Aragorn.4  
  
Turning to his Elf, he added: "And Legolas, of course. If you start out behind..."  
  
Legolas bowed to him and took a step to join the men. But Boromir protested.  
  
"Nay," he said, shaking his head, "this is a work for men of strength! I do not see how that flimsy Elf could aid us here. Better let him run ahead and see how far we have to burrow, and find us the right way so that we may not come too close to the cliff in our toil."  
  
Legolas straightened and clenched his jaw. Aragorn whirled around to Boromir, glaring, a sharp reply on his tongue. But then he hesitated. He swallowed was he was about to say and turned back to his Elf. He narrowed his eyes.  
  
Legolas looked troubled. He was far too pale and the normally so untouched face bore deep shadows that spoke of exhaustion. Legolas could not have found many restful dreams last night. _Again_.  
  
Aragorn made his decision. It would be better if he could grant Legolas some time alone. And besides, as long as his Elf was out of earshot, he might have the chance to exchange a few choice words with Boromir.  
  
So, after a moment, he just shrugged. "All right," he said, seemingly indifferently, "just you and me, then."  
  
He saw Legolas' eyes widen with sudden hurt, and shook his head nearly imperceptibly. _'Not now, Little Leaf,'_ he thought, _'Just trust me!'_  
  
Aragorn didn't know if his slave had caught the unspoken message, for Legolas nearly immediately lowered his eyes and did not meet his gaze. Aloud, he said: "Actually, Boromir's idea is sound. Will you scout ahead and tell us how far we have to go? And what path best to take, if there is any doubt?"  
  
He tried to convey his reasoning in his voice. Finally, it seemed that his silent message registered, because Legolas raised his head again and met his gaze, giving him the slightest nod, before he bowed a second time to him to acknowledge the command he had been given.  
  
Then the Elf straightened again and sprang forth nimbly. "Farewell," he cried, forcing a cheerful smile, and turning to Gandalf he added: "I go to find the Sun!"  
  
Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly he sped into the distance and vanished round the rocky turn.5  
  
Aragorn turned back to Boromir and raised his brows. "Shall we?" he invited.  
  
Wordlessly, the two men began to burrow their way through the deep and tightly packed snow.  
  
_____________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas ran. For once without the restricting need to pay attention to the mortals, he flew across the snow as if he was one of his own arrows, loosened from the restraining string to find its mark elsewhere. After the oppressing darkness he had endured last night, after the doubts and the tormenting memories, running like that was like a refreshing breath, and the speed and solitude helped him to clear his mind. Finally, his troubled thoughts calmed down, and at last his mind went clear again.  
  
After just a few hundred yards, he found that the snow grew less, and after just two furlongs it was only shin-deep, and he had reached the long slope where Frodo had lost the ring the day before. The man of Gondor had been right; if the men could burrow a path through the short depth blocking their way, the rest of the way down would be much easier. It was as if the barrier of snow around the camp had been laid out specifically with the intent to trap them and hinder their escape.  
  
Legolas didn't stop immediately. Running on on the smooth surface just because he could and for the pure joy of it, he soon reached the snow line and the snow grew thin and sparse, and finally ended altogether. Slowed in his speed, Legolas sprang a few more yards over the bare rocks for the pure joy of it, then he ran atop a big boulder and came to a halt, looking around.  
  
From his vantage point, he could see far down the land, to the path they had come the previous day and beyond, far to the west and north, and also to the plains further down the south, down to the lines of the two rivers that had their source in the very mountains the Fellowship had tried to brave just now: the Sirannon, which started directly under Caradhras and at the very doors of Moria, and further south the Glanduin, which had its source in the mountain Celebdil. Even further away he could see the shapes of the far hills of Dunland. There, far away in the south, he could see one or two beams of the sun breaking through the greyish shroud covering the sky, but when he turned around and looked back to the east, he saw the sky shrouded in thick, dark clouds promising more bad weather should the Fellowship indeed dare to go that way. The passage over the pass would be indeed impossible for their company.  
  
Or to all but one.  
  
Legolas flinched as the hateful voice of the ring he had thought he left behind suddenly was back in his thoughts and attacked his mind with a vengeance.  
 _ **  
'You could do it!'**_ it urged. _**'The snow is your friend, not your foe! See how it serves to ease your way? And there is more to come! You need not fear the storm! It will cover your tracks! You can be over that mountain in a day, get down the pass beyond, skirt Lorien... as long as the snow lasts, you can be fast. Take the supplies of the Fellowship, run up the Anduin. It can't be more than five hundred miles to your father's halls. You can do it!'**  
  
'Yes, of course,'_ Legolas dryly thought, _'and as soon as I am on the other side, that thing will probably try to tell me that my father's halls actually lie in the direction of Dol Guldur!'_  
  
But at the same time, and to his own dismay, he found himself calculating rationally and coolly wether there was indeed a way to undertake this journey and succeed. He shivered.  
  
The very thought of doing such a thing – breaking his oaths, killing his companions, bringing death to the other hostages and war to his people – made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat. _And yet.  
 **  
Just the thought what his success if he did this, and the possession of the ring, could mean for his father, for his people.... To use it to stop the threat of Dol Guldur, send the Orcs and Nazgul against Lothlorien, take Rivendell, make Elrond cringe and beg for mercy on his knees.... wasn't it his very duty to his people to try this?  
**_  
Legolas sighed. Realizing that he would find no peace if he did not allow himself to think it through, he sat down on his haunches and weighed his chances as calmly as he could.  
  
Recalling his memories of the two or three times he made the journey north up the Anduin and back to his home together with Estel, he tried to estimate the distance and the time it would take him if he had nothing to lose and no one to slow him down. He had seen a map of the lands east of the Misty Mountains once or twice, but more importantly he and Aragorn had walked that very way just a few months ago when they escorted the creature Gollum. Placing the wretched thing in the care and under the guard of his father, Thranduil, had been Gandalf's idea. Legolas had not understood the Istar's intention at the time, but now he suspected that Gandalf thought the former bearer of the One too great a temptation to place him in the care of the Lady Galadriel. Or of the Lord Elrond.  
  
Not that it had brought any benefit to Legolas' people.  
  
Bitterly and calmly, he tried to estimate the time it would take him to make the way alone, without a mortal at his side, and if he did not plan to be alive much longer after he reached his destination.  
  
He did not doubt that he could get over Caradhras in one or two days, especially with the snow lying thick and deep on the mountain pass as it did now. Over the smooth surface, he could easily race along where the mortals of their company would have needed to trudge on arduously and climb over any obstacles. The real problem would be to get down on the other side and through the valley there without running into a patrol from Lothlorien. He did not doubt that the Lady of the Wood would know it if the Fellowship was killed and possibly she would see it in her Mirror if Legolas tried to bring the ring to Northern Mirkwood; at the very least she would send scouts to investigate. Those he would need to avoid, and that would cost him time. But provided he managed to elude or to kill them, and escaped, could he do it?  
  
He estimated that it was at least four hundred miles from his current point to his father's halls, as the crow flies, and maybe half a hundred more if he allowed for obstacles on the way he had to either surmount or circumvent.  
  
He would need to make it to the shores of the Anduin, far enough north of Lothlorien so he would not get caught; then he could use the old trading path there. And there were settlements along the river of Woodmen and other people. Some of them had horses. He could buy or steal a couple, and move on even faster. Without the company of any mortals he estimated that he could make between fifty and sixty miles a day6, especially if he did not take rest or made long stops along the way. If he could get a horse or two, he could be even faster. Given the need to skirt around Lothlorien, which would considerably slow him down, he estimated that he could make the journey in three weeks, and if he went with past experience he had that time until the need and the withdrawal got so bad that it would weaken his body too much to go on. That was, assuming that the recent new extension of the spell had not tightened the bond much further and shortened the time he had left, and that he did not run into a troop of Orcs or worse along the way. And of course assuming that he even succeeded in taking his companions unaware and did not get himself killed or badly wounded during the fight.  
  
So, the answer was: yes, if it came down just to chances of success, he _could_ do it. It would be a close call, but he would probably succeed.  
  
But the other and more important question was: did he _want_ to do this? And could he bring himself to go that far?  
  
Estel's face appeared before his eyes. The beautiful boy he had known in the past who had, without any effort, conquered his heart. The troubled, fierce, noble, guilt-stricken, abusive and yet caring man who was now his master. He recalled again Aragorn's face during their last tender coupling just two nights ago, full of tenderness and plain, unguarded love as Legolas made love to him, the grief at Legolas' disappointment when Legolas found out that all their tender sharing had not succeeded in bringing his partner to hardness, much less fulfillment. And yet Aragorn would have been completely content to leave it at that.  
  
He recalled the fierce and unhesitating promise the man had given him just a few days ago to protect him and his people from the Dwarf, and the harsh confrontation Aragorn had sought with Gimli afterwards, because he knew that unlike Legolas, _he_ could do so without endangering Legolas' people. He saw again Aragorn's stoic and stubborn expression as Elrond scolded him for taking Legolas with him to Mirkwood for the first, and then again for the second and the third and again the fourth time. The horrifying, and yet mind-staggering moment when Estel, with an expression of triumph, gulped down the potion that would doom them both in an act of defiance and love and with the fierce intent to bind himself as tightly to Legolas as Legolas was bound to him. To ensure their _equality_ in their bond.  
  
This last image was like a bleeding wound, because that one misguided act had hurt them both so much and it had destroyed and twisted the one he, Legolas loved, which hurt in itself even more than the pain Aragorn was now forced to inflict on him whenever he took him.  
  
And finally he recalled the unbelievable promise the man had made him just last night.  
 _  
"But I promise you this: if this Quest succeeds, and if I truly should fulfill my fate, then I will do everything in my power to help you free your people. You recall what Glorfindel said back in Rivendell? And Gandalf? The Quest may be the way to change their fate. Don't throw away this chance by listening to that cursed piece of jewelry."_  
  
He heard his master's voice again, saw the expression of grief, of guilt and of sincerity on the Adan's face.  
  
He shook his head. _Dear Estel!_ That the man would promise this was still staggering and filled him with disbelief and wonder. He could hardly wrap his mind around it.  
  
In the back of his head, the voice of the ring screamed. _**'Don't believe him!'**_ it cried. _**'It is all false promises, all lies! He lied to you! Just as he lied these other times, remember? His word means nothing!...'**_  
  
But this time, Legolas was prepared for the hateful voice. So, he just shook his head to clear it and banished the hateful screaming from his mind.  
  
Aragorn would not break this promise, he realized. The man had given him his word. He had explicitly promised. And Estel had never broken his promises, except that one time back in Rivendell, and there he had been very likely under the influence of the very thing that now tried to get Legolas to kill him.  
  
Whatever had urged his master to this step, Legolas knew that Aragorn had bound himself as uncompromisingly as if he had sworn an oath to the Valar. And he would keep it.  
  
The thought filled him with warmth and gratitude. Again he recalled the vivid images of the last time they had made love. Aragorn's open face, his joy at his partner's touches, the grief in the Adan's eyes when what they did could not bring his flesh to hardness. His plea to Legolas to ignore that fact and to go on anyway.  
  
Then he envisioned the image changing. Recalling the vision of last night, he saw his knife flicking over the beloved throat, the grey eyes widening in sudden pain and betrayal, then going dull, blood covering the well known, familiar features... the flushed skin greying in death...  
  
He choked at the sudden pain that filled him. Bile rose in his throat and he had to fight down his churning stomach. Weakened, he thought further of the Hobbits, so trusting, who had never done him anything but good – and forced himself to imagine the treacherous knife, wielded by his own hands, slaughtering the ones who trusted him.  
  
This time, the bile and upheaval of his stomach was nearly too much, and it took all his strength to fight it down. Did he really want to do this? Did he want to darken his hands with their blood? Breaking his oath and forsaking all then honor he ever had possessed just for a vague promise of a treacherous piece of jewelry?  
  
No. He could no more kill Estel, than he could cut out his own heart. He would rather die than do that, as long as there was any other way left for the two of them. He would die for this man, in spite of everything; he could no more kill him than he could kill his own siblings. And even less he could kill the ones who trusted him and had shown him nothing but friendliness.  
  
And even further – given he forced himself to do that, anyway, and given he succeeded in this quest – _what then?_ Did he really want to throw that burden on his father? Did he really wish to force him to take the Ring, to forsake his immortal feá and command it to darkness, become worse and lower than their hated enemies, just on the mere chance to free their people – an unsure chance, because the rest of Middle Earth would burn and fall, and in the end Sauron might still regain his Ring. And even if Sauron was destroyed, would that not mean that he then only would be replaced by him who had once been Thranduil?  
  
For if Legolas took the ring and brought it there, there was no going back. Thranduil would have no choice but to take the ring. And he would be further burdened with the knowledge that to force that choice on him, his only remaining son had forsaken his own honor, broken every oath he had ever sworn, and darkened his hands with the blood of innocents. To do this to his father, Legolas would first have to condemn himself as well.  
  
Did he really want to do this to his father?  
  
In his mind's eye he recalled his father's face, that first time when Estel had visited Mirkwood and taken Legolas along.  
  
 _  
// / He saw them again, both walking into the big round frontyard before his father's doors, escorted by a group of guards who were all baffled by his presence. Word had spread quickly and from the huts and flets everywhere people gathered to watch. Never before had any of the hostages come back. There was much wonder and whispering, especially because he came in the company of an Adan. And there, finally, at the entrance of the cave palace, he was - Thranduil, summoned by runners and the general rumor raised by the two travelers' arrival, disbelieving and irritated enough to come out and greet them himself. 7  
  
Legolas could see his face, that beloved, well-known face he had not seen for years, transform in utter surprise and disbelieving joy. Could see his father's lips form his name, tonelessly – then the king gave up all dignity, and in the very next moment Legolas felt himself embraced in strong arms and a hug strong enough that it pressed all breath from him. It took long moments for his father to bring himself enough under control again to draw back and hold him off a bit. "Legolas!-" he asked, "How? How is this possible?"  
  
Legolas was all too aware of Estel, standing half behind him, grinning, all too pleased with himself. He was not sure if his companion was fully aware of the danger he was in and he knew that he had to act quickly if he was to save the beloved fool's life – and by default his own.  
  
He went down on one knee before his king, to present Aragorn to him, and saw the face of his father darken in sudden understanding.../ //_  
  
  
Legolas shook himself out of the memories. It had taken all his skill and every ounce of persuasiveness he possessed to convince Thranduil to not only let Aragorn live but also to later let the two of them go again; and he recalled all too well the mix of pain and sorrow on his father's face as he realized that Legolas was not miraculously free, but bound to an Adan, a mortal, of all people, and that he could not keep them there. Still, Aragorn had conducted himself admirably and had managed to gain if not Thranduil's approval, at least his reluctant respect and trust. And he had promised to return with Legolas, and had kept that promise, as often as they had been capable of doing so. Each time had been both bittersweet and wondrous, mixing pain with joy. Now, though...  
  
If Legolas really took the ring and brought it home, he imagined that this time his welcome would be quite different.  
  
 _ **  
He saw himself, dragging his dying body into the round frontyard, grimly holding on to his waning strength to take these last few steps. Thranduil was there again, summoned by the news, awaiting him. He could see his father's concerned, shocked and still joyful, disbelieving face at seeing him again. He could see himself, kneeling and holding out the Ring to his father. Could see Thanduil going pale and recoiling from him in sudden realization, horror and despair transforming his face, heard the beloved voice ask, nearly tonelessly: 'what have you done?!' -- and then, the face of his father changed again, grew hard, grim and determined. He took the Ring and rose. Putting it on his finger, he opened himself to its power, claiming it, knowingly dooming himself, since bringing it, Legolas had left him no other choice. And while Legolas watched, he could see the strong glow of his father's very feá darken, changing into something terrible, could see the fierce, noble, gentle, formidable man he had grown up to admire and love twist and die before his very eyes, changed into an abomination --**_  
  
  
Legolas gasped. This time the upheaval of his innards _did_ overwhelm him and he dropped forward to his knees, being violently sick.  
  
The cramps lasted only a moment – he had not eaten anything, after all, and his stomach was empty anyway. Shaking, shivering desperately, he waited a few moments for the cramps to cease and for his insides to calm down. Finally, he shook his head, forcefully banishing the images from his mind.  
  
He still trembled. The thought of his father, forsaking all that had been good in him to become something along the lines of _Elrond_ , was just too much. That would be much too high a price to pay, even for the prospect of revenge and freedom for their people.  
  
 _No. He could not do that._  
  
Shivering, shaking, he brought his stomach back under control and rose, his face determined.  
  
Whatever happened, he would see this quest to the end, and he would serve Estel until Aragorn fulfilled his destiny and hopefully truly became king.  
  
Then he would call in the man's promise. And if Estel then broke his word, there was still time enough to kill him.  
  
But Legolas did not think the man would do that. As a rule, Aragorn was a man of his word, and aside from that one time in Rivendell, he had always kept it.  
  
It was one of the reasons why Legolas still loved him.  
  
Decision made, Legolas calmed himself. Feeling as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he turned back in the direction of the Fellowship. It was time to report to the company what he had found.  
  
____________ o _______________  
  
  
Aragorn worked wordlessly through the deep snow, burrowing with all his strength, pressing forward, broadening the way and pushing the thick, cold, wet mass to the side and out of their way. It was hard, trying work. At some places, the snow was breast-high, and while Boromir walked before him, parting the dense, white mass with great, swimming movements and taking the harder task, even walking behind him Aragorn soon found himself soon drenched in sweat and breathing hard. His hands, unlike Boromir's without protecting gloves, burned and hurt from the cold, and his clothes soon became uncomfortably dank. Grimly, he concluded that in the wet clothes freezing would be a real danger for the Fellowship, even if they made it down the mountain and to the walls of Moria before Nightfall. With the Hobbits in tow, though, that was rather unlikely.  
  
The man of Gondor walked silently before him. Boromir had made another envious remark when Legolas had vanished lightly round the turn the two men were now toiling so hard to reach, but when Aragorn did not react, the Gondorian had ceased all further attempts at conversation. And truly, the work was arduous, and they had hardly any breath to spare. Still, the face of the Gondorian, whenever he paused to look around, was sour and drawn, and he attacked the snow before him a little too fiercely. He was probably well aware of the simmering anger of his companion.  
  
Both men were all too aware of the palpable tension between them.  
  
But they were also still in plain sight of the rest of the Fellowship, and there was no way Aragorn would seek a confrontation where the Hobbits and Gandalf could see them. So he worked on, seething, grimly laboring onwards to the bend that was still before them.  
  
It took them nearly half an hour to reach that point, and another fifteen minutes to get around it and out of the sight of the others of the Fellowship. Behind the bend, the snow was more than head-high and surrounded them like a wall; pushing through it for another mile would be an excruciating task, and the mere prospect of having to do so was disheartening.  
  
But the question of if and how they could escape through that barrier was not the foremost thing on Aragorn's mind right now.  
  
As soon as he was sure that they were out of sight and earshot of the Fellowship, Aragorn rounded on Boromir.  
  
"What did you mean," he demanded angrily, glaring at the sour face of the other man, "with that remark you made to Legolas?!"  
  
Boromir scowled. He squared his shoulders and pursed his lips.  
  
"What do you mean?" he said, "I merely observed that he was probably less suited to assist in this work that he might be for other ...pastimes."  
  
Aragorn balled his fists, but stopped himself at the last moment. _It would not do to drive his fists in the other man's smirking face. As tempting as that was, it would solve nothing._ Forcing himself to remain calm, he said harshly and quietly: "I never gave you leave to harass him. If you insist on doing so, the bargain is off! And if you have anything to complain about, I suggest you take it up with me!"  
  
Boromir actually found himself tempted to take a step back. He was very aware that the man before him looked ready to fight, and readied his stance to prepare for the attack.  
  
But he was not about to just cow down. It was time to get some answers!  
  
"Is he so weak, then, that he cannot stand up for himself even against some unfriendly words, and you have to defend him?" he sneered. "Does he _need_ you to protect him at every turn?"  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes. "Whatever gave you the impression he was weak?!" he asked. "He nearly matches me in strength, and very likely that applies also to you. Except that he is much, much faster."  
  
He straightened and shrugged. "I deem he would have been of great help to us in this feat here if you had not been so stupid as to decline his help. We might have reached this point much sooner."  
  
Boromir snorted sceptically. "Then why did you send him off in the first place?" he demanded.  
  
Aragorn shrugged. "I send him ahead to scout because I wanted to have words with you," he said, "and also because I deemed he could use some time alone. Not to mention that you did not seem eager to accept his help anyway."  
  
Then he took a step forward. "So tell me! What is it that you think gives you the right to harass him? I don't recall I ever gave you leave for that, or that he has ever given you any reason either! What ails you?"  
  
Boromir just scowled at him. "Why?" he challenged. "If your little elf is as strong as you claim, then why doesn't he defend himself? Why does he need you to protect him?"  
  
Aragorn felt the strong compulsion to just flatten the other man and be done with it. But he was very aware that this would serve nothing, and worse, in his current mood it might end in bloodshed. So, instead, he willingly reined his temper in and retorted icily and sharply:  
  
"Because, Boromir, at the moment Legolas is somewhat confused wether he is _allowed_ to do so. I have given him leave to defend himself against an open attack, but he is unsure if that applies to mere insults and demeaning remarks as well. In fact, due to the bargain we made, he is treating you in part as he would me. I will be happy to tell him that he is free to retaliate against your harassment, be it in body or in words, and as soon as I have done so I advise you to curb your tongue. Because I assure you it would be an inconvenience to have to treat you for a broken jaw."  
  
Boromir scowled again. "Oh? And who would give me that? _You?_ " he challenged.  
  
Aragorn smiled grimly. "Me? No, _I_ would be the one who added the black eye and broken nose to it," he said. "For as soon as I have given him leave to do so, you will find that Legolas is quite capable of defending himself."  
  
Boromir didn't budge. He narrowed his eyes. "Is that the reason why he never fights back against you?" he challenged, "Why he even is even willing to take your abuse?"  
  
Aragorn flinched. He froze, then he took a step back. "What do you--" he began, then he recalled how the Gondorian had come across him and Legolas a few days ago. He took a deep breath.  
  
"Actually, yes," he said bitterly. "Legolas is bound by oath to defer to me. And he is, by law of Rivendell, my slave."  
  
He bowed his head.  
  
"Not only is he bound by that accursed oath – which means that should I die, so would he; that part is bad enough. But even if he _wanted_ to fight back, he would not dare for fear of endangering his people. Of course, as far as I am concerned, I would never hold their fate against him, nor use them to enforce his obedience. He knows this; at least I _hope_ he does! But others might, if they'd learned of his actions. What part of the explanation you were given of his situation escaped you?"  
  
Boromir hesitated. "He was ready enough to attack the Dwarf the other day..." he observed, irritated. "I hardly see..."  
  
Aragorn made a face.  
  
"The Dwarf threatened his family and his people," he said angrily. "Didn't you listen? That is exactly what it would take to goad Legolas to attack, in spite of the possible repercussions. He does not fear anything for _himself_. Whatever gave you the impression he was less than able to defend himself?"  
  
Boromir was puzzled. He simply did not understand this man, or his relationship to the Elf.  
  
"And what about that punishment?" he demanded, "when I came across you?"  
  
Aragorn actually looked away. "He disobeyed me," he said quietly, "and also I fear I was not entirely myself. And that is all I will say to you about this. Leave it at that."  
  
He looked back at the other man, face drawn. "In any case, the reason why I agreed to that bargain was because I wanted to ensure that if anything happened to me, Legolas would still have a chance to live. Because if I died, three weeks from now, Legolas would be of no help to anyone anymore, and too weak to go on. His only chance would be if there was another man to feed the spell. To ensure this I had counted on you. Did I judge incorrectly?"  
  
He took a deep breath. "What shall it be, Boromir? Do I need to take the bargain back, or will you behave yourself from now on? Because the last thing I want for Legolas is you hurting him--"  
  
He stopped. Boromir could have sworn he had been about to say another thing, something in the lines of _'you hurting him too'._  
  
He was still puzzled at the Ranger's behavior and body language. Before he had a chance to utter an reply, though, their face-off suddenly was interrupted by a clear, familiar voice, somewhat muffled, coming from the wall of snow before them.  
  
 _"My Lord?"_  
  
Aragorn flinched. He turned. "Legolas?" he shouted.  
  
The voice answered, now much closer and louder.  
  
"I'm here, My Lord. How far have you come?"  
  
They heard some burrowing noises on the other side, then the noise ceased. A few minutes later, Legolas appeared above them, easily standing on the snow and looking down. His face wore an irritating little smile.  
  
"I see, My Lord, you have performed a great feat while I was gone. You nearly burrowed through the whole mountain-slope here!"  
  
Aragorn looked up to him askance, raising a brow at his remark. He quickly took in his Elf's posture and expression, the light tone of his voice. He could tell that something was amiss; apparently, something was still eating at Legolas, but the Elf tried to hide it by playing light.  
  
Well, that made two of them. For the moment, he decided to just let it go. There was no way he would try to find out what troubled his Elf in front of Boromir. He just hoped Legolas had not heard their conversation.  
  
"So," he challenged instead, "have you found the sun?"  
  
Legolas smirked down at him. "No, My Lord," he said. "I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all8. But I can offer you a gleam of hope for those who are doomed to go on feet; for the wall you see before you, that you have despaired to brave, is just a few feet deep, not much wider than a wall, and on the other side, the snow suddenly grows less and is much easier to overcome. So, do not despair; the greatest part of your toil is done and just a little left."  
  
Aragorn cocked his head. "Can you tell us then, oh walker-on-snow, how far these poor men have to toil on until we may breach the wall you describe?"  
  
Legolas laughed – a breathless laugh, not too convincing, Aragorn thought – and turned. "I will do better, My Lord," he replied over his shoulder, "I'll show you!"  
  
And he vanished. Boromir looked at Aragorn, drawing his brows down.  
  
"What was that?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn looked back at him and shrugged. "Did you never met a cheerful Woodelf before ?" he asked mildly, then turned around to the wall of snow. "Well, if we are to break through that, we'd better start, hadn't we?"  
  
At the same time, they could hear the burrowing noises on the other side return, and quickly, the two men joined the work from their side.  
  
Soon, they saw Legolas' hands breaking through. Boromir gave a relieved sigh, just glad that they had finally made it. But Aragorn had other plans. In a sudden move, he grabbed the hands of the Elf and pulled him through the remaining snow to Legolas' surprised yelp, then pushed him to the ground and straddled him.  
  
Grabbing a handful of snow and rubbing it into his companion's face, he exclaimed: "I have been waiting to do that the whole day! What was that remark about those who are doomed to walk on foot?"  
  
To his dismay he felt Legolas instantly freezing under him. Instead of wriggling and struggling against him, as Aragorn had hoped, Legolas tensed up and Aragorn could see fear and dismay flashing through his eyes, together with a shadow he could not discern; he got the feeling of imminent danger. Momentarily stopping and freezing himself, he quickly shook his head. "Oh, for Eru's sake," he hissed, bringing his mouth close to one pointed ear, "I am just joking! Can't you tell?"  
  
In the very next moment he found himself on his back and straddled. "In that case, My Lord," Legolas cried a little too cheerfully, "I think you need this wash-up more urgently than I," and he proceeded to rub snow into the face of a sputtering and wriggling Aragorn.  
  
Boromir watched them for a few moments, baffled at their antics. He did not understand what had just happened. What was going on between these two?  
  
After a moment, though, he abandoned his musing and joined in the kerfuffle. He was not completely sure if he intended to help Aragorn or the Elf, but when he grabbed Legolas and tried to pull him off the Ranger, he found himself suddenly pulled forward and thrown over the Elf's shoulder. He landed in the snow, bereft of all leverage, sputtering, trying to figure out what had just happened – only to find himself straddled by an seemingly enraged Elf who rubbed snow in his face to Aragorn's delighted laughter. He found himself wriggling and yelping, trying to avoid the cold, burning mass without success. He was still trying to break free when suddenly the fragile walls of the snowy passage they had made, and the remaining arch of snow on top, descended on them and buried them in a wet, white mass.  
  
It took them only seconds to burrow free and look at the debacle.  
  
After a moment of stunned silence, Boromir snorted. "So, I guess we have to toil through that a second time," he stated dryly. "We better get started then."  
  
And he bowed down to do just that. After a few moments he was joined by the Elf and Ranger, now working eagerly and without further antics.  
  
It took them only a few minutes to clear the passage together, much less time than the two men would have needed had they worked alone. Finished, they could finally see what Legolas had meant: on the other side, the snow was considerately less deep and not an obstacle at all.  
  
Boromir sighed. He turned to his companions. "So," he said, "I guess we go and get the others then."  
  
Legolas nodded at him and ran ahead, and Aragorn sighed and turned back to Boromir. He raised a brow.  
  
"Didn't you say something earlier today about flimsy Elves?" he asked dryly.  
  
Boromir frowned. But he had no opportunity to reply, for Aragorn had turned already and slowly followed Legolas up the slope.  
  
Boromir followed slowly. He had much to think about.  
  
  
____________ o ___________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) This paragraph and the one before are again directly lifted from the book: J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of The Rings, 1954-1955, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1995, Page 284. In the following text, passages and sentences lifted of the book will be referenced like this: LOTR, 1954-55, 1995, P. xxx. Please bear with me!  
  
(2) This sentence again directly lifted from LOTR, 1954-55, 1995, Page 284.  
  
(3) Legolas' words and Gandalf's reply are again directly lifted from LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, P. 284. However, I completely changed the context, since in the book the exchange is meant to show the Elf as the only member of the fellowship untroubled by the snow. Please bear with me!  
  
(4) This sentence and the paragraph before directly lifted from LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, P. 284  
  
(5) This passage is adapted and changed from the original context from the scene in the book: LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, P. 284. As you can see, I changed some of the wordings of the original to make it fit in my text; and of course I changed the context of the scene completely to suit my purposes. Also, since this fic is based mainly on movieverse, and we have seen Legolas wearing boots on screen, in this fic he wears them, too.  
  
(6) The distance as well as the estimation how far Legolas could go alone in a day are made in reference of the maps in the "Atlas of Middle Earth, revised Edition" by Karen Wynn Fonstad, Boston 1991, translated to German by Hans. J. Schuetz, Stuttgart 1994. I refer to the pages 80/81 (giving the land east and west of the Misty Mountains) and to the pages 172/ 173 that give the miles the three hunters made per day in Rohan; the first day, they made fifty miles, and there Legolas was slowed down by the company of Aragorn and Gimli. Special thanks go to Randy, with whom I discussed the possibility of Legolas' success and who pointed me at the example of the Three Hunter's feat in Rohan. Thank you, and yes, I still intend to write that grim AU-version of this story you are waiting for! But not in **this** tale.  
  
(7) The image of the round 'frontyard' before the entrance doors to Tranduil's halls is directly taken from the drawing in J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Hobbit", Allen&Unwin, 1937, Unwin Paperback Edition 1979, pages 166; the drawing differs slightly from the description in the text, page 167, but I chose to go with the picture, here. The huts and flets are mentioned in the same book, page 162.  
  
(8) This passage is again adapted from the book: LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page 285. I changed the original wording and, of course, the context, though. In the book, Legolas runs back to the waiting Fellowship and says his famous sentence about not bringing the Sun to Gandalf.


	43. Of Wargs and Wizards, Part I

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : none. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again, and stay very close to Tolkien's lines. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXXXI. Of Wargs and Wizards, Part I**  
  
  
Although the two men had thrust a line through the deep snow, it still took them another half an hour to get the Hobbits and the Dwarf beyond the drift. Even though it was easier for the big folk and the pony to pass through the lane, the Halflings could not do it and had to be carried; and Gimli was unceremoniously placed on the pony, despite his protest that he did not need such coddling and could go on his own feet just fine.1  
  
Finally, they had made it and were gathered on the other side of the great drift the men and Elf had worked so hard to break through. At its crest it was double the height of Boromir, but right through the middle of the wall, a passage was cut, partly burrowed and partly smoothed into the treacherous ground, rising and falling like a bridge.  
  
The last of them to arrive was Aragorn, carrying Frodo; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground on the other side of the great drift, when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow behind them, barring the way they had come and missing the company only by yards.  
  
They all jumped back, then gathered themselves and looked at each other, pale and trembling.  
  
Boromir stared, eyes wide in shock.  
  
"We were just in time!" he said, "If that had happened just a few moments sooner...".  
  
Aragorn's face was grim. "Do not think about it!" he said. "Just let us depart as quickly as we may!"  
  
He seemed as if he was about to say some more, but didn't. Legolas beside him was curiously pale and silent.  
  
But Gimli shook his head and glared at the hostile mountain. "Enough, Enough!" he cried, "We are departing already!"  
  
And as if he had given a signal, and as if Caradhas had been waiting for the assurance that the invaders had been beaten and would not return, the clouds over the heights began to break and the light grew broader.  
  
The company stared at each other disbelievingly, then they began their long and tortuous way down.  
  
As Legolas had reported, the snow soon grew less and they made good time. The morning was now far advanced, and the clouds broke open, giving way to the sun, though the clearing sky and growing light did not do much to heat them. A cold wind flowed down behind them, biting into their damp clothes and chilling them to the bone. In the far distance, they could see dark specks circling in the air.  
  
"The birds again!" said Aragorn, pointing down at them.  
  
"That cannot be helped now," said Gandalf. "We must go down at once. Not even on the knees of Caradhras will I wait for another nightfall."  
  
And with that, he started to walk again, and the company stumbled wearily down the slope they had so arduously labored up the day before. Behind them, the mountain lay unconquered and triumphant. Caradhras had defeated them.  
  
_________________ o ______________  
  
  
It was a grey and chilly day. The break in the clouds of the late morning didn't last for long, and soon the wind brought fresh, dark clouds down from Caradhras which hung over them gloomily, threatening with rain or worse, more snow. The wind picked up and grew colder, and it bit into them mercilessly. So the company hastened along, intent on getting down from the great mountain slopes lest they let themselves get caught in bad weather again without shelter.  
  
None of them seemed greatly inclined to chatter or merriment. Gandalf seemed grim; Gimli was somewhat more excited, but kept mostly close to the wizard. But he was the only one. Even the Hobbits trudged on glumly, tiredly, without their normal exchange of jokes and banter. As for the two men and the Elf of the company, they did not seem inclined to much talk either.  
  
Boromir trudged on, moodily keeping to himself. From time to time, he shot a musing look at Legolas, who gave no sign he noticed; but he made no attempt to approach or to talk to the Elf. Instead, he stayed close to Merry and Pippin, lending the occasional hand to them, but didn't talk. He did his best to avoid both Aragorn and Legolas, mulling over what Aragorn had told him.  
  
Aragorn kept to himself, too. From time to time, he shot a concerned look at Legolas. The Elf seemed unusually quiet, and while he walked not too far from Aragorn, he engaged in none of his usual scouting or lookout work. He seemed troubled and distracted. Aragorn could tell that something was amiss.  
  
But he recalled only too well the moment only this morning when Legolas had frozen up under him, seemingly expecting to be hurt or punished, and that other moment last night when Legolas had drawn his knives against him. Aragorn had a pretty good idea what was going on; Legolas had said the ring was tempting him, and Aragorn recalled only too well what that cursed thing had offered _him_ , just the day before. Whatever was eating at his Elf, it was probably best if he was allowed to work through it alone.  
  
So Aragorn kept his distance and let his slave be for now. But he made a note to talk to him once they made camp this evening if there was a chance.  
  
It was evening when they found some place where they dared to rest at last in the shadow of a steep hill, and the grey light was waning fast, but at least the hillside somewhat kept the wind at bay. They were very weary. The mountains were veiled in dusk, and the wind was cold. When they had eaten some food and each had a sip of the last of the Miruvor, and they had gathered some strength again, Gandalf called for a council.2  
  
"We cannot, of course, go on this night," he said, "the attack on the Redhorn Gate has tired us out, and we must rest here for a while.3" He sighed. "But then we must go on with all haste. The enemy now knows which way we'll take, or at least he thinks he does. The sooner we reach Moria and cover our tracks again, the better."  
  
Boromir looked sullen. He had said little on the whole way down, and had worn a moody and listless expression most of the day. His mood had not improved come evening, as was true for all of them. Now he spoke up.  
  
"I do not see why we must take the way through Moria," he protested. "I would still opt to take the western road and follow the course of the Mountains up to the Gap of Rohan, and then further up to my city. That road is well known to me, since I traveled it on my way to Rivendell, and it was safe enough when I followed it then. And once we come to the land of Rohan, we may count on help. The Horselords are still friendly to my people." He paused. Then he added: "I do not know much of Moria, but that name has an ill sound in my ears.4"  
  
Gimli looked brittle and opened his mouth to protest, but Gandalf cut him off. Sharply he replied:  
  
"Things have changed since you came north, Boromir," he said. "Have you forgotten what I told you about Saruman? We cannot risk bringing the ring too close to his dwelling. And worse, the birds, his spies, have now seen and reported our path. He will send his Orcs after us, now that he knows our path and may have guessed what we are up to."  
  
The others of the Fellowship were silent. All of them were tired. The Hobbits shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Aragorn stood silent and brooding, apparently contemplating dark, gloomy thoughts, but unwilling to speak of them just yet, and Legolas looked distracted. He wore a frown and appeared to be listening to the wind. Only Gimli seemed engaged and willing to take the wizard's side.  
  
But Boromir was not about to give in easily. He had to try to make the others see reason, at least one more time! So he replied: "How then do we know these mines of yours would still be free? They may be teeming with Orcs, a well-laid trap where the creatures of the enemy are only waiting for us to deliver us to his very plate."  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "You know little of the mines if you liken them to a stronghold of the enemy," he said annoyed. "Moria is none of the Enemy's strongholds, it is a dwelling of the Dwarves of old, and there is hope that it is still free. Most Orcs of the Misty Mountains were scattered and destroyed in the Battle of the Five Armies, seventy years ago. And I have been to Moria once before. There is even a chance that we might find Balin and his Dwarven colony in some deep hall of their fathers there."  
  
Boromir looked mutinous. But Gimli perked up at those words and nodded in approval, his eyes sparkling. He spoke up:  
  
"I will go gladly to the dwelling of my forefathers. Little do you know of Khazad-Dum, Boromir of Gondor, if you compare the halls of my ancestors to the foul dwellings of the enemy, and only your ignorance may excuse you and save you from learning better by the help of my axe! But I forgive you; you may learn better when my cousin Balin welcomes you to his halls!"  
  
His eyes sparkled. Boromir, though, did not look convinced. But before he could reply, Aragorn spoke up.  
  
"I, too, once passed the Dimrill Gate," he said quietly, "but though I also came out again, the memory is very ill. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time."  
  
For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say more, but then he just shook his head and fell silent again.  
  
"Well, I do not wish to enter it even once!" Pippin said, shuddering.  
  
"Nor me," muttered Sam.  
  
"Of course not!" Gandalf said, "Who would?" Ignoring Gimli's irritated look, he ploughed on: "But what alternatives do we have? With Saruman on our tracks, there is no other way! I tell you again, we have no other choice, unless we go back!"  
  
"I do not see why we would have no other choice," Boromir insisted stubbornly. "We will have to pass close to Saruman either way, unless we go west to the coast and follow the shore line to the Lebennin!"  
  
Gandalf drew his brows together, but Aragorn spoke up again.  
  
"We cannot take that way," he said. "It would take too much time, and there are other reasons..." he trailed off, and his gaze flicked briefly to Legolas, who still seemed rather distracted and not very intent on the discussion. For a moment, Aragorn's brows drifted down, and he frowned. But then he just turned his attention back to Gandalf.  
  
"There is no question that we can't go back, and if you insist on taking the road through Moria, then I will follow you. However, I say this to you Gandalf, and I will say it only once: if you enter the doors of Moria, beware. I feel that great evil is waiting for us there, and the road will prove ill for some of us. It is a desperate path."  
  
Gandalf hesitated. He knew, of course, that Aragorn had foresight, and a vision of Isildur's heir was not to be taken lightly. But before he could reply, Boromir spoke up again.  
  
"And I say I still do not see how that road may avail us!" he insisted. "What say the others of the Fellowship? What does Legolas say, and what say the little Folk? Surely the voice of the Ring-Bearer should be heard?"  
  
Aragorn gave him a surprised and startled look; after their discussion this morning he had surely not expected Boromir to ask for Legolas' opinion; nor would it have occurred to himself to do so.  
  
His brows climbed even higher when, to his astonishment, Legolas said softly: "I do not wish to go to Moria."  
  
But he did not have the opportunity to say anything about that to his slave, because at that moment, finally Frodo spoke.  
  
"I do not wish to go to Moria," he said, "but neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. I would opt that we take our rest tonight, and decide in the morning, when we all have rested, not in this gloom. How the wind howls!"  
  
Aragorn, whose gaze had rested somewhat irritated on his slave, started. He could see Legolas come to the same realization in the very same instant, since the Elf's eyes widened, and he breathed: "Estel! --"  
  
Aragorn nodded grimly. He had realized it too. "How the wind howls!" he repeated, "It howls with wolf-voices! The wargs have come west of mountains!"  
  
Gandalf looked grim. "It is as I said!" he stated. "The hunt is on! We will be lucky if we see the dawn. Do you see my point now, Boromir? We cannot hope to travel south to the Gap of Rohan with the wild wolves on our tracks."  
  
Boromir's face was grim, but he refused an answer. Legolas looked pale and disturbed, although Aragorn was sure it was not out of fear of the wargs; after all, they had battled the creatures many times before in the past, and never had the Elf quailed at their attack. Gimli looked grim and determined. The Hobbits looked merely confused, since they had not encountered any of the wolves before; but the reaction of their comrades did nothing to soothe their apprehension.  
  
Finally, Boromir spoke. "How far is it to Moria?" he asked.  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "Fifteen miles as the crow flies, and twenty as the warg runs," he replied. "But we cannot hope to make it there tonight, with the wild packs on our trail."  
  
Boromir nodded grimly. "Then let us seek a place of strong defense," he said, "and do our best to hold out until morning." He made a face. "With any luck, there _will still be_ a question where we go, then!"  
  
None of them felt like adding anything to that statement.  
  
_____________ o __________________  
  
  
For their defense, the Fellowship climbed to the top of the hill under which they had been sheltering. It was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a broken circle of boulder stones5. There they made camp and sought some firewood, because secrecy would not keep the hunting packs off their trail now, and fire might be one of their best defenses, anyway. Bill the pony was sweating and shivering, constantly rolling his eyes. Getting the beast up the hill had been hard work under the circumstances; the howls seemed closer now and were constantly audible, and the poor animal was terrified. Sam spent a great deal of time trying to calm the pony and to give comfort, but in the end they could do nothing but tie it to a stake somewhat to the side, in the shadow of two boulders least likely to be climbed by any wolves.  
  
When finally all preparations were done, Gandalf called them together again.  
  
"Legolas, you have the best ears of us all," he said. "How long do you think, until the wargs are here? How far away do you think they are?"  
  
Legolas, who had been listening intently, looked at him startled, as if called out of some disturbing thoughts. Nevertheless he answered politely and softly: "It is hard to say, Mithrandir, because the wind carries their voices far and obscures them; but I think it will take them at least three more hours to get to us."  
  
Aragorn looked at him, irritated by his still subdued demeanor.  
  
But Gandalf just nodded. "Very well," he said. "Then we will set three rounds of watches, so those who can may seek some rest until the hunters arrive. I suggest that you and I will take the first one, as well as Gimli. Aragorn and Boromir have the second watch, together with Merry. Frodo, Pippin and Sam will have the third!"  
  
Startled, the two Men shared a look. They all knew that the third watch was very likely set in vain, since the wargs would have arrived by then. This setting of the watches would mean that the two men and the Hobbits were the most likely to find some rest; the wizard, Elf and Dwarf would find none.  
  
Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp, meaningful look of Gandalf silenced him. Understanding dawned. Nodding, he gave a confirming nod to Legolas, then he shouldered his pack and sought a place somewhat to the side of the circle and near a crack between the boulders, where the wargs were most likely to attack once they were there.  
  
Boromir looked at him in irritation, then at the wizard; but then he just shrugged and followed Aragorn's example.  
  
"What was all this about?" he asked quietly.  
  
But Aragorn just shook his head. "Not now, Boromir," he said, well aware that Legolas' sharp ears would catch every word they exchanged. "Maybe later."  
  
And with that he settled his weapons in easy reach and made as if to settle down to sleep for awhile, leaving both his slave and the man of Gondor bewildered and irritated.  
  
________________ o ________________  
  
  
Finally, they had all settled. The Hobbits had placed their blankets closest around the fire. Gandalf sat a bit away from them, closer to another crack between the boulders, and to one side guarding the way to the pony. Gimli stood some way apart, to the other side of the circle, and Legolas had taken post on one of the boulders at the other side, staring out into the night. Gandalf prepared and lit his pipe; then he sat and watched him for a while, silently smoking away.  
  
Finally, he called out to him.  
  
"Legolas, come here and keep me company for a while," he said, "I would have words with you."  
  
Legolas turned to him, startled. _Had the Istar felt his earlier temptation by the ring? Worse, had he read his thoughts?!_  
  
He sent a quick, longing look in the direction of his master, but Aragorn seemed fast asleep. So, he finally gave up his post and followed the invitation of the wizard reluctantly and with great apprehension.  
  
Gimli, who had heard the wizard's voice, came over, too, but Gandalf shook his head.  
  
"No, not you, son of Gloin," he said. "Do us a favor and walk the perimeter for a while. I need to speak our Elf here in privacy."  
  
Gimli sent a sharp, dark look to the paling Elf, but then just shrugged and growled something unintelligible. He turned around and did as he had been asked to.  
  
Gandalf nodded with satisfaction, then he looked up at Legolas again. He patted the place at his side invitingly.  
  
"Come, sit with me for a while, young Thranduilion," he said. "It is time we had some words together."  
  
Reluctantly, yet obediently, Legolas sat, giving the wizard a polite bow. But then, he avoided his gaze and stared down at his hands.  
  
Gandalf studied him for a while. The Elf seemed nervous. He was looking around every once in a while, nearly fidgeting; something about the whole situation apparently bothered him deeply, and Gandalf did not think it was merely the approaching wargs. He had seen this Elf face danger before, together with his master.  
  
He decided to let it go for the moment.  
  
"We have had little chance to talk," he began, "since we all set out from Rivendell. You have held yourself admirably, so far, especially considering your situation."  
  
Legolas blushed and looked at him questioningly. _Mithrandir was not angry about his attack on the Dwarf a few days ago?_  
  
Gandalf cocked a brow. "I am sorry I could not stop Aragorn from performing that ritual," he offered quietly. "Tell me, how are you holding out under the competition of the men over you?"  
  
Legolas looked up, startled. He blushed even more and looked down again.  
  
"It is not my place to judge the decisions of my master, Mithrandir," he said. "And he did what he did because he thought it for the best. His wish to keep me safe was why he made that bargain." His face was neutral, and his eyes were guarded.  
  
Gandalf sighed. "You are very loyal to him," he said. "And you may have good reason. Still..." He shook his head and looked up again, his face laced in sorrow.  
  
"You know I always wished I could do more for your people," he said, "but so far there has been very little I could do. Yet this quest might finally be the way to change their fortunes. And maybe there is a way to help you, too."  
  
He saw the questioning look of the Elf and went on: "Your master has asked me to look for a way to break the spell that holds you – if indeed the success of this quest is not enough to achieve that goal."  
  
Legolas looked at him, completely astonished. Gandalf shook his head.  
  
"Do not be too eager, yet," he warned. "There is some danger. It has been tried before, you know, by others I will not name here. But so far, all the attempt has achieved has been to unsettle the spell in those for whom it has been tried, to the point that it could not be fed anymore. All hostages who participated in the attempt died when the need set in."  
  
Legolas paled. "Who-?" he asked, but Gandalf shook his head.  
  
"It's better you don't know," he said. "The question is, knowing the risk, are you willing to take it?"  
  
Legolas stared at him. "How could I not?" he asked. "Anything that could help to free my people..." he trailed off.  
  
Looking away, he took a moment to collect himself.  
  
"That is, if my master is willing to allow it," he finally concluded. "My life belongs to him, after all."  
  
Gandalf made a face, but did not comment. For a while he merely pulled at his pipe in silence.  
  
Finally, he said: "Tell me what you can about the workings of the spell, will you? How are the stages? When does the poisoning starts?"  
  
Legolas bit his lips. He stared at his hands.  
  
"It takes one week until the need sets in," he said, "and three until the poisoning gets bad. The fourth week is the one where I'll be helpless. I do not know for sure how long it will take from that point to death. At least, that was how it has been until now. I do not know how much the bond was tightened again that last time when..."  
  
He trailed off. Gandalf furrowed his brows.  
  
"So, every time the spell has been extended, the bond has been tightened?" he asked.  
  
Legolas nodded.  
  
"Aragorn... my master told me that it is impossible to extend the spell without tightening the bond," he said. "That is what Elrond taught him. He said he has been careful not to draw it much tighter than it was already, though."  
  
He drew a deep breath. "There has not been yet any opportunity, nor need, to test what limits it has now."  
He looked away, then his gaze returned to his own hands. He shuddered.  
  
Gandalf's face darkened again.  
  
"Aragorn did you an ill favor, it seems, agreeing to that uncouth 'bargain' as he did," he said. "Had I known that before, I might have tried harder to stop him. Tell me," he demanded then, "how often has the spell been extended for you so far?"  
  
Legolas swallowed. He still looked carefully at his own hands. "Four times," he finally answered. "Elrond... extended it the first time shortly after my... after I was put under the spell, to give me to his sons. At that time, he had set it to a month. When I was given to Estel, he tightened it... to a fortnight."  
  
Gandalf drew his brows together, irritated. "A fortnight? But you said..."  
  
Legolas looked down. He nodded.  
  
"When Aragorn extended the spell again, to some of his rangers, he tightened the bond to the state it is now."  
  
Gandalf looked at him, irritated. "It was _**Aragorn**_ who tightened the bond so closely?" he asked incredulously. By himself, he thought: _'That is not how you told it to me, son of Arathorn!'_  
  
Legolas looked down. He shrugged. Then he looked up again.  
  
"He made a mistake," he said simply. "He... when he extended the spell for the first time, he was not sure how much of the drug involved was needed to do it. Elrond had taught him how to do it, but not in great detail. And he could hardly ask, for obvious reasons."  
  
  
His voice was bitter. "All he intended was to keep me safe and to ensure my survival if he was severely wounded again, Mithrandir. He never intended to do me any harm. When we learned of his mistake shortly afterwards, he was..."  
  
He shook his head again, face drawn.  
  
 _Estel's face appeared before his eyes, his desperation when he had discovered what he had done. He had been devastated. It had been very long until he finally forgave himself – or, maybe, until he had learned to better hide his guilt from Legolas._  
  
"It was bad," Legolas concluded tonelessly. "It took a long time until he finally came to terms with it."  
  
Gandalf looked at him sharply and disapprovingly.  
  
"And yet he risked tightening the bond again right now," he observed grimly. "You are quite ready to defend your master, Mirkwood prince. And he is not that careful with your life!"  
  
Legolas looked up at him, startled.  
  
"I am no prince anymore, Mithrandir," he said. "And Aragorn... Estel has studied all he could learn about the curse since then. He knows much more about it now than he did that first time."  
  
Yet as much conviction as he tried to place in his words, he sounded unsure, and his face was troubled.  
  
 _What if Estel had erred again?_  
  
Gandalf sighed. "Then let us hope that he didn't misjudge this time," he said. "But tell me, why did he have the ingredients with him in the first place?"  
  
Legolas flinched a bit, and his face became even paler. But he did not answer, and he looked away again.  
  
Gandalf studied him for a while.  
  
"Did he plan to find another Elf for you before he married Arwen?" he finally asked, very gently.  
  
Legolas flinched again, and Gandalf congratulated himself. But when the Elf finally met his gaze again, his eyes and voice were guarded.  
  
"It is not my place to judge my master's plans, Mithrandir," he said, "nor to ask why he keeps those drugs with him."  
  
But Gandalf could discern that this was not the whole truth, and he could hear the hidden pain in the Mirkwood Elf's voice.  
  
 _'Well, well, well,'_ he thought, _'so he knows very well what his master intended. But he does not seem happy about the prospect... oh, son of Arathorn, what have you gotten yourself into? And those you claim to love?'_  
  
Aloud, he said: "Fair enough. Then keep your secrets, and his, I presume. In fact your loyalty to your master is commendable – although I am tempted to wonder if he deserves it."  
  
Legolas gave him an indignant look and opened his mouth to protest, but he waved him off.  
  
"Let us not dwell on this any longer," he said, "the night does not get any younger, and I have yet a lot of questions I need to ask. What do you recall of the casting of the spell? Were there any remarkable details you remember?"  
  
Legolas grew even paler. "You... you have not heard the tale?" he asked tonelessly.  
  
Gandalf looked down.  
  
"Of course I have," he admitted sorrowfully, "the event was infamous enough. I do not ask you to retell the whole sordid ritual. Some things I know – the components of the drugs, the... proceedings. And I have of course heard..."  
  
He shook his head and trailed off.  
  
Finally, he said gently: "I know what Elrond did to you. Glorfindel told me of that day, and there were other... sources. Not to mention the rumors I heard. But what I need to know is if there is any component of the spell not at first visible to the eye. What I mean is if there is any component of the spell that has been unique to the times when it was cast and extended by Elrond? Was there any difference that you recall between the times when Elrond first cast and extended the spell, and later when Aragorn did it?"  
  
Seeing Legolas' abashed and reluctant look, he specified:  
  
"What I mean is any detail that seemed extremely... odd, something that smacked of dark magic."  
  
Legolas looked at him incredulously, completely taken aback by the question. Bitterness filled him and cold anger nearly choked his throat. _What did the wizard mean with 'something odd'? Apart from the rape, the public humiliation, the tools and drugs, the complete degradation, the induced and forced **need**?!_  
  
He felt the urge to scream, or to jump up and leave this painful inquiry, and his mind shut down at the request to willingly recall the details of that horrifying day when Elrond had forced the curse on him, and of the ritual.  
  
But if it could serve to find a way to break the spell...  
  
Only that prospect held him in his place. So, he grated out a little more forcefully than intended: "The whole spell smacks of dark magic, Mithrandir! I do not see..."  
  
But then he hesitated. Actually, there _was_ one thing that had happened during the first, horrifying ritual and during every later extension of the spell by Elrond, but that had not been there when Aragorn did it. And it was certainly something that smacked of dark magic to him.  
  
"I... don't recall the wording of the spell," he finally said, hesitantly and slowly, "but... there is something as you describe. The blue light."  
  
He saw the wizard's eyes light up in interest and continued hesitantly:  
  
"When... when Elrond..." - he nearly choked on the hated name, and had to pause. But finally, he went on:  
  
"When Elrond first... cast... the spell... there was a blue light that... filled my mind, when... when he first... touched me, and..." He swallowed. Determinedly, he went on: "I could not move. Nor flee, or fight. It... it..."  
  
He shook his head and trailed off. He could not go on; bitterness stayed his tongue.  
  
Gandalf watched him silently, pulling at his pipe, carefully avoiding any comment. Sorrow and disgust at Elrond's malicious curse filled his heart, but he was careful not to make any gesture that could be seen as pressure. So he merely waited for Legolas to continue and remained silent.  
  
"It did not allow me to flee my body," Legolas finally said flatly. "It held me there and froze me, and it was always there when I tried it again – tried dying – later. And... later, when Elrond... when he extended the spell..."  
  
He trailed off again.  
  
Gandalf said nothing but just watched him sorrowfully, listening carefully and waiting for him to continue.  
  
"It was there, then, too," Legolas finally concluded, "every time when he did it. And the inability to move. He can... he can induce it with a mere touch. That is something Estel – Aragorn could never do. Nor... nor his brothers."  
  
He nearly choked on the blasphemy to mention Estel, even _Aragorn_ , in the same breath as Elrond and his twin sons.  
  
But there it was. And he could not deny that that blue light, the hated essence of the curse, was exactly the thing the wizard was looking for.  
  
Falling silent again, he realized that he shivered and angrily he brought his body under control.  
  
Gandalf watched him silently.  
  
 _'So you have indeed used the power of your ring to devise that evil spell, Elrond Halfelven,'_ he thought to himself. _'You are far further gone than I realized. And still you let the One Ring go when it was in your grasp. Did you hope that when it was destroyed, the Three would keep their power and the ring you hold would be cleansed of the One Ring's influence? But even so, after the use you made of it, your ring is now most thoroughly corrupted. I wonder if you are fully aware of what you have done...'_  
  
He took a pull of his pipe. _'And **you** , young Mirkwood prince,' he thought, 'I wonder if you are aware with how much longing you still speak of him who holds your heart, despite everything that one has done to you! Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you have much to answer for!'_  
  
But he did not say that aloud. Instead, he asked carefully: "And since then, that... _**blue light**_ has always been there whenever you tried to flee your body?"  
  
Legolas nodded.  
  
Gandalf took another pull of his pipe. He nodded, too.  
  
"That is interesting, indeed," he murmured. Then he fixated the Mirkwood Elf sharply with his gaze and asked gently:  
  
"Did you try it often?"  
  
Legolas started again. Then he quickly looked away. He bit his lips.  
  
After a long moment, he reluctantly replied: "Sometimes. In... in the beginning, I tried it quite often, I fear. But..."  
  
He shook his head and trailed off. His face held shame for his perceived weakness.  
  
Gandalf did not comment on that. Very carefully, he asked: "And since then?"  
  
Legolas still avoided his gaze. But after a moment, he said reluctantly and quietly: "Since... I belong to Aragorn, not anymore. At least, not... willingly."  
  
But he spoke very softly, and he still would not meet the wizard's eyes.  
  
Gandalf watched him silently and thoughtfully. Finally, after a long moment, he asked:  
  
"Are you content then, to belong to him?"  
  
Legolas visibly flinched and looked up, startled. Then he quickly looked away again. _What did the wizard intend with this question?_ He was all too aware of his own, treacherous thought last night and only this very morning. _Had Mithrandir guessed what he had contemplated doing?_ The vision of this very morning came to his mind again, and his stomach churned. _Estel!..._  
  
After a moment, he finally looked up again, but his eyes were guarded. Very carefully, he slowly said: "I owe Aragorn my loyalty and my allegiance, Mithrandir. It does not really matter what I wish or think."  
  
The wizard watched him, irritated. After a long moment, he blew out some smoke from his pipe and said: "Maybe. But that was not my question."  
  
Legolas looked away again. He took a deep breath. When he finally met the wizard's gaze again, his eyes were clear.  
  
"I am glad and honored I belong to him," he simply said. "Estel... is me a good master, Mithrandir. I had worse."  
  
Gandalf held his gaze and knew that this was all the answer he would get, although he had the distinct impression that it was far from the whole truth. There was pain and sorrow hidden in the Elven slave's eyes and voice, and more than a little regret and bitterness. But it was clear that this was all Legolas would tell him.  
  
He sighed. _'You still love him then,'_ he concluded. _'Oh, son of Arathorn, what have you done? To whatever end all this will lead, it can only be in heartbreak. And one of you will pay the price for your folly, either way.'_  
  
But he said none of this; he simply nodded. Aloud, he said: "I suppose, that is fair enough. But tell me, if indeed we succeed, and either by the success of this Quest, or by other means the spell could be broken, what would you do? If the bond that binds you to him were lifted? Would you leave or stay?"  
  
Legolas looked at him, irritated. After a moment, he replied mildly: "I am still a hostage, Mithrandir. Even if the spell could be lifted, I would have to remain with Aragorn, unless all my people were free."  
  
Gandalf sighed. "Of course," he admitted impatiently, "but what would you do if you were free to go? I mean, if not only the spell was lifted, but indeed, as a result of this quest, your people were free?"  
  
Legolas looked down again.  
  
"Is there hope for that?" he asked.  
  
Gandalf took a pull of his pipe.  
  
"I don't know," he admitted, "but I hope so, yes. You know that I hope, if this Quest succeeds, as an outcome their fate will be changed as well."  
  
Legolas took a moment to reply. Bitterly, he thought: _'You **hope**. But you don't know. Estel has given me more reason to hope, than you, Mithrandir!'_ But he felt a warning not to speak too openly, and anyway, if the wizard would truly look for a possibility of breaking the spell, it would be more than foolish to risk igniting his anger.  
  
So he carefully said: "It would be the choice of my master, Mithrandir. If he wished me to stay with him, or leave."  
  
Gandalf studied him. "Even if he was forced to marry?" he asked then, quietly and gently. "You know he has to do it at some point."  
  
Legolas looked away. After a long moment, he replied carefully: "It would still be his choice. I am sworn to serve Aragorn in every way he wants, Mithrandir. It would depend on him. If he sent me away..." he trailed off and Gandalf heard the bitterness and fear within his voice. After a moment, Legolas finished flatly: "In that case, of course, I would have to leave."  
  
But he could not suppress the shudder at these words. Obviously, he could hardly think of a situation in which this would not mean his death.  
  
Gandalf fought down his irritation. He had the feeling that the Mirkwood Elf was deliberately obstructive. But it would not help to lose his temper, now! After a moment, he chose to try a different approach. With fraying patience, he asked: "But if you were free to choose? Would you not wish to go home and see your family again?"  
  
Legolas looked at him incredulously. "Of course I would!" he said, and then, looking away, he finished: "Yes. Of course! Very much so."  
  
Gandalf nodded, finally feeling some spark of satisfaction. _'Then I suppose there is still hope in this'_ he thought. _'Maybe, if that Dunadan will not show some reason in the end, at least the Mirkwood prince will.'_  
  
He took a deep breath. "Very well," he finally said. "I will see what I can do, then."  
  
He fixated the Mirkwood Elf with his gaze and continued very seriously:  
  
"You realize, of course, that we have to tread very carefully in this. For one thing, we will have to wait until after Lothlorien. Until that time, I will merely ask you a few questions now and then. We need to find out more about that curse and seek its weakness. And I am not entirely sure that the spell can be lifted as long as the One Ring and the Three exist. For all I can see it was indeed devised with the help of one of the Three, and it may well be that it can't be broken as long as their power remains. But I will do the best I can. Yet I must warn you, because there is still another danger of which you may be unaware."  
  
Legolas looked at him questioningly, without comment, merely waiting for him to continue.  
  
Gandalf looked at him very seriously. "You told me how the spell prevents you and the other hostages from fleeing your body or dying at will," he said. "If it was truly lifted, nothing would stop you from seeking Mandos at will anymore."  
  
Legolas looked at him incredulously.  
  
"If the spell was broken, I would be free," he said, "and so would they be. Why, then, should I wish to go to _Mandos?_ Why should anybody?"  
  
Gandalf studied him thoughtfully. "Fair enough," he finally replied. "So we will try this once we leave the Golden Wood, then."  
  
Legolas nodded gracefully. "Whatever I can do to help in this, I will," he said, "as long as my master allows it. I wish with all my heart to free my people, and if I can help to achieve that goal in any way..."  
  
Gandalf sighed. "I know," he said. "I was sure you would say this. However..."  
  
But Legolas did not listen anymore. His gaze flicked to the side suddenly, and he stared at the place outside the ring of stones, between two mighty trees. He gasped.  
  
 _ **"Mithrandir!--"**_  
  
Gandalf followed his gaze. There, outside the circle of light of the fire, two yellow eyes stared back at them.  
  
The wargs had found them.  
  
  
_________________ o _______________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) The whole following passage until "Caradhras had defeated them" is closely adapted from the book J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of The Rings, 1954-1955, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1995, Page 286.  
  
(2) This sentence is again adapted closely from the book LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page P. 287. For the whole first half of the following part, I need to stay very close to Tolkien's original lines, although of course I adapted them to fit my purposes. Please bear with me!  
  
(3) This sentence is again lifted directly, from the book LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page P. 287. The following passage is very closely adapted from the same book, pages 287-289, and I have lifted some sentences directly trough the whole passage, while I changed and adapted others. Of course I also completely changed the context, again, and also I took the dramatic liberty to change the intention. The gist is that in the _book_ , Gandalf lets the _Fellowship_ decide which way to take. Here, the decision has been already made, though I gave Boromir leave to challenge it. His viewpoint is quite justified, I think! Aragorn's Bookverse objections to the road through Moria, though, have been cut short here to better fit my purposes. Sorry 'bout that!  
  
(4) Boromir's objections are adapted, but not quoted directly, from the book LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page P. 288. About Moria: The name means literally "Dark Chasm" in Sindarin, which admittedly should be enough to give anyone pause. Bookverse it is not clear if Boromir knows a lot of Moria or not; here I decided that he has no clue. After all, Faramir was the scholar of the two!  
  
(5) This sentence and the one before are again directly lifted from the book, LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page P. 290. From now, I stop quoting and paraphrasing the book as closely for a while, albeit the mention of the poor sweating and shivering pony is lifted from there, too. Please, bear with me.


	44. Of Wargs and Wizards, Part II

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : Abuse of Wildlife? Otherwise: None. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again, and stay very close to Tolkien's lines. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_________________________  
  


**XXXXII. Of Wargs and Wizards, Part II**   


At the same time, on the other side of the camp, another conversation was taking place. Boromir had tried to sleep, and had indeed managed to doze a while, haunted by strange dreams and images: howling wargs, wet, restraining snow, and always the Elf, just a few paces out of reach. He did not know what had roused him when he finally woke up, breathing hard and sweating, but he decided that it would be futile to try to find sleep again and turned around towards the fire. He saw the Elf, sitting at the side, deeply in conversation with the wizard, while the Hobbits were dozing; a quick look around showed him the Dwarf, quietly walking the perimeter, staring out into the night, but from time to time grazing the other two members of the Fellowship supposedly on watch with a dark look. Boromir did not know enough about Dwarven ears or the range of Dwarven hearing, but the Dwarf looked close enough to hear at least some of the conversation between Elf and wizard. Alas, he himself was too far away for that.  
  
He stared at the pair for a few more moments, then he turned around again – only to find that he was not the only one who was not sleeping. Aragorn was lying close, rolled into his blanket, watching the wizard and the Elf intently and with some concentration.  
  
Boromir cleared his throat.  
  
Aragorn started and looked at him.  
  
"I take it you cannot sleep, either?" Boromir asked dryly.  
  
Aragorn just stared at him for a moment, but then he gave in and nodded. "I fear so," he replied.  
  
Boromir nodded, too. "Good," he said, "For I suppose I have some more questions."  
  
Aragorn sighed. Slowly, he sat up. Boromir followed his example.  
  
Fumbling for his pipe, Aragorn quietly asked: "What is it you wish to know, then?"  
  
Boromir sighed. Carefully, he nodded in the direction of Gandalf and Legolas. "Your Elf," he said, and Aragorn made a face. Boromir shook his head. "I would like to know the circumstances why he was enslaved. He has told me that he gave himself up to ensure safety for his people, but..."  
  
Aragorn looked up at him sharply. Suddenly, he had a very good idea what had Legolas so upset the night before, when he came to relieve his master from the watch. But he restrained himself and replied merely: "He did."  
  
Boromir stared at him incredulously.  
  
"But – to agree to such terms..." he began, hesitantly.  
  
Aragorn took his fire-kit and produced a spark to light his pipe. Flatly and grimly, he said:  
  
"The way I heard it, Elrond left them no other choice. He threatened to burn their woods and put their entire population to the sword. They were severely outnumbered. They would not have stood a chance. And so Legolas offered himself. It was the only thing he could do."  
  
He had succeeded in lighting his pipe and took a few puffs.  
  
Boromir still stared at him. "But -- to _slavery?_ And to a life like _that?!_ Such degradation?" he asked. "How...?"  
  
Aragorn nodded grimly. "I have often asked myself," he said quietly, "if, in the same situation, I would have had such courage." He took a pull at his pipe. "Or if I would have had the strength to survive and stay sane for so long."  
  
Boromir stared at him. "But..." he said, and trailed off. _Courage?!_ For _that?!_  
  
He looked back in the direction of the fire and studied the Elf, who seemed right now taken aback by some question from Mithrandir. He seemed indignant in some way. Boromir could not hear his words, or read his gestures.  
  
He turned to Aragorn again. "And he has lived like – like _that_ \- ever since?" he merely asked.  
  
Aragorn looked away. "The longer he lasts, the less reason Elrond has to ask for another of his siblings," he said evasively, carefully neglecting to mention that Elrond probably was looking for an excuse to do just that as soon as possible, anyway. _This was hardly a matter he could explain to the man of Gondor, and if he, Aragorn, had his way, there would soon be an end to that, in any case. Assuming they survived this mad quest and succeeded with their mission, of course._  
  
Boromir was silent for some time. Finally, he asked, visibly shaken: "The Mirkwood Realm must have committed some horrifying crime if the other Elven realms have laid such a punishment on them. I cannot think of anything that would warrant such treatment, though, save maybe treachery and conspiring with the enemy, and even then..."  
  
Aragorn grimaced. He shook his head. Finally, he shrugged and said grimly: "I do not know. I have heard many different stories about that, and of course Legolas' people tell a very different tale than their enemies. I do not know which, if any, of the tales are true. I believe the feud between these Realms is very old and it would be near impossible for any mortal to find out the truth of why and how it started. If I were to muse, I think the Mirkwood Elves had the bad fortune once to lose a war, and their enemies were blinded by their hatred. But I do not know why and how that came to pass."  
  
He sighed. "Mostly, my rangers and I have tried to stay out of it as much as possible, and we hold ties to both sides in our fight against the Enemy and his creatures. As far as we can, at least."  
  
His gaze wandered briefly to his Elf and for long moments it rested on him with concern, sorrow and regret.  
  
Boromir just stared at him incredulously. _"You and your people try to stay out of this?!"_ he repeated as if he could not trust hie ear, "He is your _**slave!**_ "  
  
Aragorn shot him a wry look. "How shrewd of you to notice," he mocked harshly. "Yes, that does complicate things a bit, I deem, does it not?"  
  
But then he relented. Looking down at his pipe, he said tiredly and bitterly: "As I said, I was raised as Elrond's foster son. But when I asked for Legolas to be given to me, all I had in mind at the time was to protect him. I... I thought being with me would be a better fate than..."  
  
He trailed off and fell silent. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked back at Boromir again.  
  
"But that is neither here nor there. What matters now is only that he is bound to me. And frankly, for me, it is of no concern how this ancient feud started and how the subjugation of Legolas' people came about. The only thing that matters to me, now, is Legolas' safety and that he survives. I do not care if any of the tales are true or why the Elven realms once fought against each other. I only care about him. That is the reason why I extended that spell to you."  
  
Boromir looked at him for a moment, irritated, and opened his mouth for a reply, but then he noticed the sudden expression of alarm on Aragorn's face. Following his gaze, he saw the eyes in the dark, staring back at him. He jumped up and reached for the grip of his sword, just as the sudden howling filled the night around the camp and Gimli's cry raised the alarm.  
  
_______________________ o ______________________  
  
  
Quite suddenly, the howl rose all around them. The yellow eyes briefly vanished and were replaced by many others. Legolas was on his feet, and so was Gandalf. The Hobbits scrambled up groggily and reached for for their little daggers.  
  
But at first, there was no attack.  
  
In the gap between the two great rocks Gandalf and Legolas had guarded, a great big wolf appeared, majestic in his form and demeanor, the yellow eyes holding far too much intelligence. He came forward into the circle of light, watching them evilly; and then he howled, a short, challenging sound, as if he was summoning his troops.  
  
His howl was answered by many voices, all around them. Yet still, the pack held back, hesitating.  
  
Gandalf strode forward. Holding his staff aloft, he shouted: "Listen to me, Hound of Sauron! Gandalf is here! Fly, if you value your foul skin! Flee, or I will shrivel you from tail to snout!1"  
  
The wolf stared at him defiantly and snarled. Then he leaped. Gandalf raised his staff even higher, but before he could even cast a spell, there was a sharp twang, and the wolf thudded to the ground. An arrow protruded from his throat.  
  
Legolas had loosed his arrow.  
  
Fast as thought, the Elf had set another arrow to his bow, ready to shoot again. But the eyes around the camp were suddenly extinguished, and the howls were silent. Gandalf still held his staff aloft. After a moment, he and Aragorn strode forward, to the ring of boulders and close to the edge of the circle of light from their campfire.  
  
But the watching eyes and shadowy shapes were gone. The wargs had fled them.  
  
Irritated, they turned back and gathered around the fire again. The Hobbits huddled close to the flames, looking miserable. They were wide awake now, but badly shaken, and they cast horrified glances at the corpse of the big, grey wolf Legolas had killed. Gimli looked grim; so did Gandalf and Aragorn. Legolas was silent. He seemed highly strung and alert, intently listening to the wind.  
  
It was Boromir who finally voiced their irritation. "What was that?" he asked. "Why didn't they attack?"  
  
Aragorn looked grim. "Maybe they were only the scouts," he said. "They will be back."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I counted only seven pairs of eyes," he said, "and just as many voices in the howl. I believe they did not attack because they were too few. They likely will return in greater numbers."  
  
His voice was strained, and he was very pale.  
  
Aragorn looked at him, drawing his brows together. But the Elf avoided his eyes, and this was hardly the moment for further questions. So, he let it go.  
  
Gandalf nodded grimly.  
  
"Then there is no sense for all of us in staying awake until they come," he said. "Whoever is not on guard should try to catch some sleep. I believe the second watch belongs to Boromir and Aragorn."  
  
He did not mention Merry, though, and as he had expected, both Legolas and Gimli shook their heads.  
  
"I will find no rest now," the Elf said softly. "I leave the opportunity to rest for Merry; my people do not need as much sleep as mortals do." He looked away, though, and hoped very hard he would not be called out on this by his master.  
  
But Aragorn said nothing, obviously realizing how futile any command to his slave to seek rest would be right now.  
  
Gimli looked grim. "I will not idly sleep when there is danger," the Dwarf said. "May the Hobbits seek what rest they can, but Gimli, Gloin's son will not skirt his duty."  
  
And he cast a meaningful look at the wizard and the Elf, who both refused to answer.  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "Very well," he said, "Just the Hobbits, then. But remember that we all have a hard walk ahead tomorrow."  
  
And with that he settled back at his old place, prepared his pipe again and would say no more.  
  
There was no further protest. Merry settled back close to Pippin, Sam and Frodo at the fire. Soon, all of them fell into an uneasy doze. Gimli sat close to them, quietly smoking his pipe.  
  
Boromir and Aragorn walked the perimeter, and from time to time they quietly exchanged words.  
  
Legolas stood on one of the great boulders, staring silently out into the night. The wizard's words still resonated in his head, but he stood straight and alert.  
  
  
The second attack came only when the night was already old and the moon was setting, and it was upon them in seconds. All of a sudden, a crescendo of howls rose all around them, and in nearly the same moment, the beasts were there, coming at them from all sides. And this time, there were many more of them, jumping at them from the ring of stones, or crouching there to prepare for attack.  
  
Boromir had his sword out and was fighting before he could even think. He placed himself close to one of the gaps between the boulders, between the attack and the Hobbits. To his right was Aragorn, doing the same; Legolas was to his left, the farthest away of the others, his bow already singing, firing arrows nearly too fast for mortal eyes to follow. At his back, on the other side of the fire, Gimli and Gandalf completed the circle, forming a line of defense around the Hobbits who stood closest to the fire.  
  
Behind him, Boromir could hear Gandalf raising his voice, commanding the Hobbits to fling fuel onto the fire and draw their blades. The rising light showed that his words were heeded; but Boromir had no time to look around, because he was hard pressed, already. He hewed the head of one attacking warg and buried his sword in a second one; out of the corner of his eye he could see Aragorn doing the same with his hunting knife, while the Ranger brought his sword down on another warg at the same time. Behind him, a great cry rose:  
  
 _"Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu! 2"_  
  
A howl followed, and a yelp. Then, Boromir was occupied with fending off a particularly nasty warg which eluded his sword several times but came close to sinking his teeth into his sword arm.  
  
Finally, he managed to thrust his sword right down the throat of the beast, when he heard a warning shout. In the next instant, he felt an arrow pass just inches from his face, and then something big and heavy crushed into him from the other side and nearly swept him off his feet. A great weight pressed against him. Startled, he turned and raised his hand to shove the weight away. He stared. It was a huge warg, killed by an arrow in its throat, his sharp, deadly teeth and mighty jaws just inches away from Boromir's own throat.  
  
Alarmed, Boromir shoved the dead beast away and looked around. He could see the Elf some yards to his left, fighting three wargs coming at him at once. It was an amazing sight.  
  
Apparently, the moment of distraction when Legolas had killed the warg attacking Boromir had dearly cost the Elf, for it had left an opening for a few of the beasts to get too close for arrows' range. One warg was coming from the right, the other from the left; and there was a third one crouching in front of the Elf and preparing to leap.  
  
Boromir shouted a warning, but he was too far away himself to come to the Elf's aid. Yet Legolas did not seem in trouble. While he watched, the Elf had one of his knives out in an instant and with a graceful sweep he cut the first warg's throat, while at the same time he landed a forceful kick right at the nose of the second. The beast yelped and froze, stunned for a moment. There was a shadowy movement, and Boromir cried a warning as the third warg leaped; hastily, he reached for his knife, although he knew that even throwing it he would probably be too slow to stop the attack in time. But his help was not needed. The Elf had already regained his balance and dodged, burying his knife in the breast of the attacking beast. Then the second warg had recovered from his shock and leaped at him, but Legolas had freed his knife already and shoved it through the throat of the animal. The whole sequence had only taken a few heartbeats. And just as soon, the Elf was standing free again, sheathing his blade and raising his bow, firing arrows almost faster than Boromir's eyes could follow.  
  
The man of Gondor stared in awe. But in the next moment, he saw a movement to his right and turned just in time to fend off another warg that leaped at him. There was no time to think about what he had seen. He had to fight, mindlessly and routinely as he would on any battlefield in Gondor.  
  
As soon as the attack had begun, it was over. When more and more shapes leaped at them, regardless of Legolas' deadly arrows, suddenly Gandalf raised his staff high over his head, and he seemed to grow.  
  
With a loud voice he cried: _"Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!"_  
  
There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a leaf and bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt from tree-top to tree-top. The whole hill was crowned with dazzling light. The swords and knives of the defenders shone and flickered. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in the air as it flew, and plunged burning into the heart of a great wolf-chieftain. All the others fled3.  
  
In the blazing light, the company stood dazzled. Legolas had slumped and stood disoriented and alarmed; so did the others. The fire had blinded them. Slowly, Boromir tried to regain his eyesight through the sudden brightness of the blazing night.  
  
But the moment of helplessness was not exploited, for there was no further attack. The hill lay silent, the fire slowly dying down and giving way to the dim light of the coming dawn. Their attackers were gone.  
  
After a few moments, when he had recovered from seeing just sparks and stars before his eyes, Boromir looked around. To his side, where Legolas had fought, he could see the Elf, kneeling on the ground, held and quietly soothed by his master. Aragorn was conversing with his slave in Elvish. On the other side, around the dying campfire, the Hobbits huddled. Gimli stood there, shaking his head, obviously still fighting to regain his sight. Gandalf had lowered his staff again and stared distrustfully out into the night. Of them all, he alone seemed untroubled.  
  
After a moment, though, he turned and looked around; then he came over to Aragorn and Legolas.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, irritated.  
  
Aragorn didn't look up, nor did the Elf. "He cannot see," the Ranger said.  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "That will cease in a moment. Just stay with him until it gets better. But hurry! We must eat, and then we must break camp. It is still quite a way to Moria, and we cannot be sure that the packs will not return. The sooner we reach the mines, the better!"  
  
  
The gnarled trees could not sustain the fire for long, and slowly it gave way to bitter smoke and ashes. Slowly, the eyes of the company adapted and after a while even Legolas could see normally again. But when the fire finally died down and the light of the approaching day grew stronger, they all looked around in bewilderment.  
  
There were no bodies. The remains of the trees around them stood smoldering and charred, and they all felt the exhaustion of the recent battle; Boromir's side hurt from the bruise where the huge, dead warg had crashed into him. He clearly remembered the beasts he had killed, the blows he had delivered. But there were no dead wolves lying about; not even traces of the blood were left. Legolas' arrows lay all over the hill, and all were unspoiled and intact, safe for one which was charred and burned, missing its point.  
  
If not for the charred hillside and the trembling pony the whole battle could as well have been a dream.  
  
They looked at each other in alarm and fear.  
  
Gandalf's face was grim. "It is as I thought," he said, "These were no ordinary wolves. They were the creatures of the enemy. We do well to hasten on our road. Let's break our fast and then move on as soon as possible!"  
  
There was no opposition. Nobody dared to challenge his counsel again.  
  
_______________ o ______________  
  
  
It was a very subdued company that started on their way to Moria a short time later. They had broken their fast with all haste and then started on their way, eager to be gone; none of them wished to linger at the eerie hillside with the charred remains of the burned trees.  
  
All of them were weary; with the exception of the Hobbits, hardly any of them had found any rest, and for most of them that had been true also the night before. None of them spoke.  
  
Gandalf's grim, intent face forbade any further questions or discussion. As always, he led the way. Next to him walked the Dwarf; but even he marched on grimly and without the apparent excitement about the prospect of entering Moria he had shown the day before. The Hobbits, next in line and flanking the pony, were too shaken by the recent fight to engage in their usual chatter; even had they been less exhausted, they would not have felt very talkative; and the men were grim and brooding. Both were still wound up from the night's battle; and while Aragorn, who took the rear, seemed watchful and alert, Boromir trudged on deep in thought. From time to time he shot a thoughtful look at the Elf, who walked in front of him, seemingly oblivious to his attention, or indeed to anything around him.  
  
Legolas walked alone, without any of his usual scouting, and his step showed none of his usual grace. He seemed distracted and edgy, but truth be told, he was barely aware of his surroundings. It was the fifth night in a row in which he had not found any peaceful rest, and he had to fight to stay awake. Occasionally he slipped off into a dizzy state of half-sleep, and it was all he could do not to stumble over any obstacles or lose his step at one of the craggy holes and ridges on their way. And yet, whenever he drifted off, he could not find rest, either. Glimpses of the attacking wargs haunted his mind, of falling rocks and snow, and in between he recalled fragments of his visions.  
  
The images haunted him. Had he really thought he could outrun the creatures of the Enemy, including the hunting packs they had barely held at bay last night, just by himself and bearing the Ring after he had gone so far as to kill off his comrades to get that treacherous trinket?  
  
What a fool he had been! He was all too aware of his own exhaustion, he could feel his weariness in every fiber of his body; and he was well aware that the sheer numbers of the pack last night would have overwhelmed them, despite his arrows and Estel's, Boromir's and even the Dwarf's best efforts, if not for the wizard and his intervention. Had he indeed allowed himself to be seduced into killing his comrades and trying to bring the Ring home to his father, he would never had made it.  
  
 _And to think that at the same time as he contemplated treachery, Estel had asked Gandalf to find a way to break the spell_ \-- it didn't bear thinking about.  
  
In the back of his mind, a treacherous, little voice whispered: _**'You have been with him for over sixty years. He could have asked the wizard to do that much sooner!'**_ \-- but he angrily banished it and shut the hateful voice off from his mind. He had listened to the Ring and its lies long enough! He would not make the same mistake again!  
  
 _Nay. Estel deserved his loyalty and his trust. There was no other way; he would not dishonor himself, or doom his father and his people, nor destroy the one he had once desperately loved and who still owned a great part of his soul, just for the lies of a piece of jewelry!_  
  
So deeply was Legolas caught up in his thoughts, that he started and nearly lost his step, as suddenly a hand settled on his shoulder.  
  
Startled and flinching guiltily, he turned. But instead of the stern face of his master, he stared into the concerned face of Boromir.  
  
"Steady, master Elf," the man of Gondor said, "You nearly fell there!"  
  
Legolas looked to the ground and saw the nasty crack across their path where he had mis-stepped and nearly lost his balance. That he had not noticed it sooner marked his tiredness.  
  
A little startled, he looked up again and nodded his thanks to the man of Gondor.  
  
Hesitantly, Boromir let go of his shoulder. But he did not immediately start to walk again. Instead, he stood there a little awkwardly, apparently searching for words.  
  
Legolas waited a moment, but when the Adan didn't speak, he gave him a bow and started to turn to resume his path.  
  
Boromir stopped him with a gesture.  
  
"Wait a moment," he asked, and when Legolas turned back to him again, he swallowed.  
  
"Grant me a moment of your time, please, Legolas," he said, "I would have words with you."  
  
Legolas looked at the Gondorian in astonishment. Since that fateful day when Boromir had learned of Legolas' status as a slave, it had been rare that he had addressed him with his name.  
  
But there was no derision or mockery in the Gondorian's face or voice. He seemed serious.  
  
So, after a moment, Legolas nodded and bowed a second time. "What can I do for you?" he asked politely.  
  
Boromir swallowed again.  
  
"You saved my life last night," he began. "I want to thank you." He took a deep breath, and ploughed on: "Without your arrow, that warg would have got me!"  
  
Legolas looked at him surprised. He drew his brows together.  
  
"I just did my duty, My Lord," he said neutrally.  
  
Boromir actually flinched. He made a face.  
  
"Don't call me that," he said. "I am not your Lord."  
  
He looked down.  
  
Bluntly and awkwardly, he went on:  
  
"I owe you an apology," - he paused, and then went on determinedly: "for my behavior these last few days. I... I had a conversation with your master last night." He flinched again, and hurried to correct himself: "With Aragorn."  
  
Legolas just looked at him. He waited.  
  
Hesitantly, the Gondorian went on: "He told me more about the circumstances why you... how it came to pass that you gave yourself up ."  
  
Legolas flinched, but the Adan seemed not to notice. Determinedly, Boromir went on:  
  
"He told me that there was no other choice, and that you had to do it to save your people. And I saw you fight last night. There is no question of your prowess as a warrior."  
  
He took a deep breath and finally looked up, meeting Legolas' eyes.  
  
"I owe you an apology. I have been a fool, and I have judged harshly, in a matter I did not understand. I would ask your forgiveness."  
  
And with that, he formally bowed to the Elf standing before him.  
  
Legolas looked at him in complete astonishment. For a moment he was at a loss what to reply.  
  
Then, after a moment, he nodded.  
  
"Thank you, Boromir of Gondor," he said seriously, "You apology is accepted and appreciated." After a moment, he went on: "But still, my Lord, you do not owe me thanks for my actions last night. I did only my duty to the Fellowship, after all."  
  
Boromir shook his head.  
  
"Do not call me your lord anymore, please, Legolas," he said. "I would have you address me as a fellow warrior. And I wanted to tell you that as far as it concerns me, the bargain I struck with your... with Aragorn is off. If there is need for you to have ... another feed the spell, because your... master might be hindered or wounded, I will be glad to provide help in any way I can. And if... if you were to decide to seek me out of your own, free will, I would be honored and glad to welcome you. But never again will I demand it as my due!"  
  
He nearly choked on the words and he was bright red as he finished, but still he managed to conclude his speech.  
  
Legolas looked at the Gondorian in utter astonishment.  
  
After a moment, he bowed again and answered, very seriously:  
  
"I thank you again, Boromir of Gondor, and I am honored by your generous offer." He hesitated a moment, then he swallowed. Looking down, he added with studied neutrality: "But it is the decision of my master whether I shall seek you out again. If he wishes to keep the bargain, I shall obey him."  
  
Boromir's face clouded.  
  
"He would order you into another man's arms even now?!" he asked incredulously. "How can he do that?! And how can you be so calm about it?"  
  
Legolas looked up again, astonished by the Gondorian's sudden concern. He shrugged.  
  
"I am his slave," he reminded Boromir calmly. "But even more, he has made this bargain with you to protect me."  
  
He looked down again. "My master foresaw that we would be under harsh pursuit, soon. He told me so several days ago, and that therefore he'd deem it best if the spell was fed often."  
  
Boromir's face clouded even more. "If he foresaw it, he gave little warning to the rest of us," he said harshly.  
  
Legolas shrugged again.  
  
"He has foresight," he said, "I do not have it. But I am told that it is never accurate, or clear. He saw that there would be pursuit, and we would be under attack. He did not see where or by whom, or even how many." He looked up again and met the other man's eyes. "You came to Rivendell asking for counsel to explain a vision, did you not?"  
  
Boromir stared at him for another moment, then he pursed his lips. "Fair enough," he said. "Still..."  
  
But Legolas did not look at him anymore. With careful remoteness, he went on: "In any case, last night's attack has proved him right. As for his reasoning, if the spell is fed more often, it means once we are under harsh pursuit and there is no time to see to it anymore, I will have more time until I fall into need or even illness."  
  
He swallowed hard, and looked up again. "I cannot deny my master's reasoning in this, although his decision is not easy on me."  
  
Boromir's face was grim.  
  
"Your kind did great woe to you, to entrap you in so cruel a bond," he said, "and it is hard to see you bound so tightly. And as faithful as you are to your master, I am not sure he deserves your loyalty. I think that you deserve much better than the way he treats you." He sighed.  
  
"I wish there was a way to see you free," he muttered.  
  
Legolas looked up at him, completely startled. But Boromir ignored it.  
  
He took a deep breath and continued honestly: "In any case, my offer stands. I will be honored to serve you at need in any way I can and any way you wish."  
  
Taking another breath, he concluded: "But I would much prefer it if you came to me, and would regard me, as a friend."  
  
Legolas stared at him, for moments at a complete loss for words. He felt torn between incredulity and gratitude, and not the least, confusion.  
  
He did not know what had caused the Gondorian's sudden change of heart, but the face of Boromir was serious, and while the man seemed more than a little embarrassed, he obviously meant it.  
  
Very earnestly, Legolas bowed to him a third time.  
  
"I will be honored to regard you as a friend, Boromir," he merely said.  
  
Boromir looked at him and nodded. A little awkwardly, he returned the bow.  
  
"And I will be glad and honored to be allowed to regard you as my friend, Legolas of Mirkwood," he replied. "Again, it pains me that I ever treated you otherwise."  
  
Legolas nodded in acceptance. He could only guess what this apology might have cost the other man.  
  
Then he looked around and noticed that they were alone. The others of their company were far ahead and had gained quite a distance while they were conversing with each other.  
  
He straightened and nodded at the rest of the Fellowship.  
  
"We should move on," he said, "this is dangerous land, and we cannot afford to leave the others of our company undefended."  
  
Boromir nodded, grateful for the offered way out of the awkward and uncomfortable conversation.  
  
"Then let us follow them," he replied and started to walk again.  
  
Legolas followed. They did not speak anymore and hurried to catch up to the others. When they caught up with the Fellowship, nobody commented on their absence; but Legolas caught the questioning glance of his master, followed by a satisfied nod. Obviously, Aragorn had guessed the contents of their conversation. But he did not seek the company of his slave, or demanded to talk to him, and so Legolas merely resumed his former position in the line.  
  
However, he felt nothing of his earlier bleak thoughts, and his tiredness had lifted. Even his feet felt much lighter now, and his heart felt much less troubled, again.  
  
_____________ o ____________  
  
  
It was evening when they finally reached the walls of Moria. The light was waning fast, and the moon was clouded; but at least there was enough light to guard their feet and find their path. All of them were weary; Legolas, however, was nearly dead on his feet. He did his best to stay awake and listen to the wind, to estimate the distance of the still audible warg-voices; but it was hard, for his exhaustion and the lack of rest of the earlier few nights were catching up with him. Even more, there was a growing sense of danger and foreboding that pressed on his spirit and sapped his strength. He could not point his finger to the source; all circumstances of their situation were desperate enough that it was hard even to estimate if the growing shadow had its origins in the approaching warg-packs on their trail, or in the mines before them, or if there might be even another source. He had caught a few glances of his master and knew that Aragorn must feel the same. The Dunadan was edgy, and he did not seem content with their progress and was uneasy with their surroundings as well.  
  
Legolas had never been to the walls of Moria; the one time when Aragorn had traveled here, it had been on one of the rare occasions when he had left Legolas behind with his Dunedain. So Legolas could contribute nothing to the quiet counsel between Aragorn and Gandalf about the changed lay of the land and the missing stream. He merely followed them up the stairs that were supposed to lead to the entryway, and then around the lake that lay across the valley there; a lake which, he gathered from Aragorn's comments, was not supposed to be there. He caught an exchange between Gandalf and Gimli about the invisibility of Dwarven doors, and even let himself be tempted to comment on it flippantly; but he was not entirely attentive. His mind was filled with the sad, sleepy song of the few, scarce trees that grew along the mountainside. Between two of them which were especially well grown, Gandalf halted and stroked the wall. The moon came out, and they beheld the inscription on the wall; clearly, they had found the doors of Moria.  
  
Legolas did not pay attention when Gandalf wracked his brain in vain to find the spell that would open the doors. He could be of little help here.  
  
Instead, he was drawn to the trees. Hoping for a little comfort, he climbed the one right of the doors and opened his mind to its sleepy song. Soon, he felt the slow strength and the calm of the Mallorn fill his mind and took respite in it.  
  
He had to wait a while, though, before the tree woke up enough to respond to his thoughts, and when it did, his mind was filled by its sad song. The Mallorn spoke to him of sadness, of the water that had grown into a lake and nearly choked his roots, and that had drowned so many of his sapling-brothers, leaving only himself and one of his siblings where once had been a whole grove around the valley where they stood.  
  
Legolas conveyed his sympathy and his regret. The tree woke up a little more, and finding one who shared and understood its song, it was delighted. It told of loneliness; it had been a long time, the tree told him, since one of his kind had walked within this land, and even other walking ones were coming near this place but rarely these days.  
  
 _'Many cold times ago, when the water was not as heavy on my roots, many of the moving creatures would visit here: squirrels and deer and wolves and other furry folk, and even two-legged ones. But now, they fear the lake and do not come here anymore. Only the winged ones are still coming here, bringing new tidings.'_  
  
Legolas started. _'Why do they fear the lake?'_ he asked, concerned.  
  
The tree was slow to reply. _'Many things are living in the water,'_ it replied, _'but one of them is hunting for the walking creatures, if they are dim enough to wake him. But he leaves us alone, and he has scared away the foul ones who make the earth groan under their feet.'_ There was deep satisfaction mixed into the thought.  
  
Legolas drew his brows together. _'Orcs, you mean?'_ he asked, and was met with a shudder.  
  
 _'Foul creatures, destroyers of our kind'_ the tree replied. _'They do not come here anymore. Even they fear the one living in the water.'_  
  
Legolas was startled. But before he could ask a question, the tree continued: _'And others who are more akin to stone. Metal they wear to cut down our brothers, merciless.'_ Legolas could feel its displeasure, and nearly missed the satisfied next thought: _'The one in the lake scared them away.'_  
  
Then the tree added: _'The winged ones tell me your kind sings to them sometimes. Will you sing to me?'_  
  
But Legolas was already separating his mind from the tree-song. _'Another time,'_ he answered, while he transmitted his regret and his gratitude for the respite he had been given, _'I have to warn the others.'_  
  
And in the next moment, he was on the ground and on his feet, quickly looking around. He saw that Aragorn and Sam had unpacked and freed the pony, and Sam was now distributing the added loads to all their packs; Gimli smoked his pipe. The two Edain stared out on the lake; obviously, something had alerted them. Legolas followed their gaze and saw that the smooth surface of the lake was moving.  
  
But before he could say anything, Gandalf said a word, and with a low, growling sound, the doors swung open.  
  
All of them slowly followed the wizard into the great cave that was the entrance of the mines of Moria.  
  
Legolas had grown up in a cave, if one could call the halls of his father such a thing. He should not fear to go underground, he chided himself, although he had lived these last eight decades mostly under light roofs or under the open sky. And yet. Seeing the deep, dark chasm that opened before them, only dimly lit by the moonlight shining through the entrance, he could not help a bone-deep shudder. There was something oppressive there, a lasting darkness, lying in wait to swallow them. The feeling of danger in his head mounted and screamed at him, and at the same time, there was no way to avoid moving on. Forcefully calming himself, he fought his unease down. He felt Aragorn beside him and looked around. Seeing the Ranger's tight expression, he knew that his master felt the warning and the aversion from going deeper inside, too.  
  
The others of the Fellowship seemed little more excited at the idea. The Dwarf was the only one who truly seemed to welcome the thought.  
  
From beside him, Legolas heard Gimli's delighted voice:  
  
"Soon, Master Elf, you will experience the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, and ripe meat of the bone!4"  
  
Legolas had no idea why Gimli addressed him of all the Fellowship directly, but he did not ask. He was too occupied with taking in the wide, gaping hall, the darkness around them, the dry, slightly foul stench. But the Dwarf seemed not to register any of this. He was excited. He continued obliviously: "This, my friends, is the home of my cousin Balin! And they call it a mine! _**A mine!**_ "  
  
Legolas looked around him, and for the first time, he noticed the bodies on the floor. Small bodies, wearing the remains of heavy armor and axes; they were dead a while, for the stench had lessened and the corpses had mostly dried out. And looked undisturbed. But there had apparently been no survivors to care for the dead; and there was no question what had killed them, either. Arrows still pierced the mortal remains of the former door guard of Balin's Dwarven colony.  
  
It was Boromir who spoke aloud what they all had only thought.  
  
"This is no mine," the man of Gondor said, "it's a tomb!"  
  
At his words, Gimli looked around him and his scream of denial echoed through the depth of the cavern.  
  
Legolas paid him no heed. He bowed down and pulled an arrow out of one of the dried-out corpses. A short examination of the tip told him all he needed to know.  
  
"Goblins!" he exclaimed and in the next instant, he was on his feet, bow drawn and readying an arrow. He could more feel than see that the two men beside him had drawn their weapons, too.  
  
Boromir's determined voice cut through the silence. "We make for the gap of Rohan," he decided, "We should never have come here! Now, get out of here, get out!"  
  
Aragorn began to protest: "We cannot take that way! The wargs-" -- but he never got to finish his sentence, for in that moment, all hell broke loose.  
  
From behind them, they heard a shriek and then Sam's desperate call: "Strider!"  
  
It was joined by Merry and Pippin calling out for help. They turned.  
  
The lake was boiling. Many tentacles groped through the night, and they had unerringly found and caught the Ring-Bearer. Frodo was in the air and screaming desperately at the top of his lungs. On the shore, the other Hobbits hacked ineffectively at the slimy arms with their small weapons.  
  
The thing that lived in the lake obviously had woken.  
  
Legolas fired his arrow before he could even think. He hit his target, but the missile did the beast no harm. It rose out of the water, preparing to swallow Frodo alive. Legolas aimed again, this time for the creature's eye; but before he could fire, Boromir had heaved one of the big arms off with a great sweep of his sword. He creature screamed and swept Frodo back into the air again. Then Aragorn heaved off another tentacle, and the Hobbit fell, finally free. He was caught by Boromir. The creature came at them. Boromir turned, following Gandalf's bellowed command:  
  
"Into the Mines!"  
  
Behind him, Aragorn turned to do the same. But they were followed by the angry creature, and it was fast. It was Boromir, not Aragorn, who screamed at the archer among them. "Legolas!"  
  
Legolas did not need the prompt. He fired, and his arrow passed only inches from Boromir's head straight into the eyes of the creature. It was thrown back and recoiled with a groan. Its hesitation lasted just a moment, but that was all the company needed. Legolas took just the time to help one of the Hobbits up and grab his pack, and then they all were in the cave and running for their lives. Behind them, the creature followed, groping for them in vain, and when it could not reach them, it ripped the doors out of their hinges and brought the foundations of the ceiling down. The roof of the cave gave in, and rocks fell and buried what had been the entrance. Legolas could hear the scream of the two Mallorn trees as they were ripped out by the angry creature and thrown before the place where they had stood.  
  
But for the moment, he could spare them no thought. All his being was concentrated on just one thing: _Estel! He had to make sure Estel was safe!_  
  
He was relieved when he found the familiar form of his master beside him and drew him back from the falling rocks, into safety. His ragged breath was answered by Aragorn's, and they instinctively crouched down in their niche, both reassured by the nearness and safety of the other.  
  
Finally, the cave-in settled. Darkness fell, impenetrably and completely. Legolas could hear the ragged breath of all the Fellowship, and a quick count of the sounds brought him relief; at least they had not lost anyone.  
  
Then there was light again, and at first, it was nearly painful to the eyes. It shone from Gandalf's staff, and it illuminated the grim, harsh face of the wizard.  
  
"We now have but one choice!" Gandalf said. "We must face the long dark of Moria!"  
  
He turned around. "Be on your guard! There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world. It is a four-day journey to the other side. Let's hope we may pass unnoticed."  
  
Legolas looked around at the threatening darkness of the cave and could not help to feeling that there was hardly a great chance of that.  
  
___________ o ______________  
  
  
\-- End of Part VII --  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) This sentence is again adapted closely from the book LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page 290. The original reads: (Quote) _"Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. 'Listen to me, Hound of Sauron!' he cried. 'Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring!'"_ (End quote). I changed it for my purposes.  
For the whole first half of the following part, I need to stay very close to Tolkien's original lines, again although of course I adapted them to fit my purposes. Please bear with me!  
An extended version of the warg fight scene has been done before – and, of course, much better than by me! - by Thundera Tiger in her great story [During a Journey in The Dark](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1479185/1/). Go, look it up! She also uses the idea that the first attack of the wargs was only a scouting endeavor, an interpretation I use here, too. Hopefully, though, otherwise my version of the warg-fight is different enough from hers to avoid the dangers of plagiarism.  
  
(2) _'Baruk Khazad, Khazad ai-menu' – Khuzdul_ (Dwarwish). This is the Dwarven battle cry, feared by Orcs and other creatures of the Enemy, which means "Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!" The cry is given at LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page 522 (The battle of Helm's Deep), the meaning in the Appendix F, Page 1106. I thought Gimli would also use it here.  
  
(3) _"Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!"_ \- Sindarin: "Fire to our help! Fire against the wolf-host!" This sentence and the following paragraph are again directly lifted from the book, LOTR, 1954-1955, 1995, Page 291. The idea of Legolas and the others being blinded by the sudden light for a few moments was first brought up by Thundera Tiger in her story "During A Journey In The Dark", and is lifted here without permission. But I think this is too good an observation to pass it up!  
  
(4) From this point forward to the end of the chapter, the following dialogue, with the sole exception of Aragorn's protest, is directly lifted from Peter Jackson's movie, "The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring", Extended DVD-Edition.. I changed the context, of course!


	45. Through The Dark

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: Many thanks to **Surreysmum** , who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : some BDSM. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again, and stay very close to Tolkien's lines. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me!   
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_________________________  
  
  
\-- Part VIII: A Journey Through The Dark --

**  
XXXXIII. Through The Dark** 1

The halls of Moria were tall and wide, and cold and empty beyond Gimli's imagination. There were endless caverns, big hollow halls of naturally formed caves, betraying only by their smooth walls that they had been widened and worked on at the edges here and there; two hundred perfectly hewn stairs that led up from the caved-in western doors up to the first big landing where the Fellowship had taken a short rest and Boromir had found an old torch, together with a supply of fuel to fill it. The torch was ancient, but still intact; there was no way to know if the supply of fuel had been left by the unlucky Dwarven guard whose bodies now lay under the rocks of the caved-in western gate, or if it had been left there by some Orcs, but the company was in no mood to ask. They had been grateful for the added light and eagerly added the precious supply to their combined packs. Now, Boromir and Aragorn exchanged the duty of bearing the torch between them.   
  
The company had been grateful for the opportunity to stop and regather some strength at that first great landing after the ascending stairs; but however exhausted they all had been when they arrived at Moria, the encounter with the creature in the lake had shaken them, and it had filled them with new strength.   
  
None of them had been willing to stay longer close to the western gate than was absolutely needed; and so, just a short while later, they were on the move again, following narrow paths that had been hewn and built thousands of years ago and now mostly fallen in disarray by neglect of maintenance. All around them, they could see glimpses of the vast caverns that were the western part of Moria, sometimes showing them natural rock formations that had been left alone, or cleverly hewn to form rooms for storage or mining shafts; sometimes the walls and ground were hewn, and they could see remains of ladders and mining shafts, leading away. At other places, the narrow path they followed led them across a sheer gap opening beyond, and at some places where once might have been a bridge of wood or stone to ease the way, there was now only emptiness. It took great courage for the Hobbits, but also for the men and even – as much as Gimli was loath to admit it – for himself, to face those dangers and to jump the greater gaps. And yet, all of the Fellowship performed admirably. The Hobbits did their best to hold their own, and where that was impossible due to sheer size, the men helped out.   
  
Even the Elf, who had seemed nearly asleep on his feet as far as Gimli could tell, walking without his usual grace shortly before they reached the lake, now seemed alert again, staring at his surroundings with awe and barely hidden discomfort, but being on his guard; at one especially nasty gap with a disturbing sound of running water deep below, it had been just his quick reflexes that had saved Sam from being lost when he jumped barely too short, and when Pippin hesitated afterwards to dare the jump, the Elf had simply crossed back again and made the jump across holding the Hobbit, landing both of them safely in the arms of his Ranger. Gimli admitted grudgingly to himself that the Elf so far had proven his worth admirably. He recalled the reluctant respect he had felt the night before during that fight against the wolves. Free or not, the Elf was a warrior to reckon with, and as such, he had earned the Dwarf's grudging respect.  
  
Gimli wondered what the two men were thinking.  
  
Gimli stopped a moment and turned to cast a short look at his companions. All of them followed the wizard grimly. There was little talk among them; Gandalf had reminded them of being quiet, so that hopefully their presence might go unnoticed. Only Sam was muttering now and then about the poor pony they had left behind and wondering if it was safe. Gimli nearly scowled.  
  
The pony! Sam was concerned about the fate of the _**beast?!**_   
  
Not that Gimli had felt any animosity towards the poor animal, well, apart from that moment he had been forced to ride on it! But compared to his sorrow and concern about the fate of Balin's colony, and the poor guards whose remains they had found at the doors, he thought the concern of the Hobbit gardener for the horse somewhat unfitting.  
  
He wondered if the other members of the Fellowship – beside Tharkun 2, of course – were aware that he probably had known the dead guards they had found and left behind by name at some point, that he had worked side by side with them and had shared work and laughter with most of them. The time had been too short – and the corpses had been too decayed – for him to get any clue about their identities, but they had come from Erebor, and he had known every single Dwarf of Balin's company by name, so strongly had he hoped to be allowed to accompany them at the time. And to find them like this, not even properly buried – on that account, at least, Gimli was glad for the cave-in.   
  
It meant that the bodies of those guards were now buried under stone, as any proper child of Mahal3 should be.  
  
Gimli had been badly shaken to see the remains of his people. They could not stem from the original inhabitants; those must have turned to dust and stone a long time ago, and these bodies had been too fresh. And in the war between the Dwarves and Orcs some two hundred years ago, Moria had not been entered. No, these bodies could only have been part of Balin's colony, and the fact that they had not been buried properly did not bode well for the fate of their comrades, nor for Balin himself.   
  
When Balin's expedition had started all these years ago, Gimli had been excited and eager and like a lot of their young people; he had wanted to come along. Gimli's father Gloin had denied him that, firmly claiming that he was needed at the Lonely Mountain and that the Dwarves of Erebor could not afford to send off at once all descendants of Durin's line into an expedition with an unsure outcome. Gimli, who had been denied the participation in the quest to regain Erebor before already, had been badly disappointed, but at the time he had acquiesced. But he had always wished to follow his older cousin and see Khazad-Dum one day.  
  
He had, however, imagined that opportunity quite differently.  
  
Despite the fact that he and his family at Erebor had not heard anything of Balin and his colony for years, until tonight Gimli had not really forsaken hope that his cousin might be alive and his colony was well. Traveling was dangerous these days; and the endeavor of recolonizing Moria was a huge project that would take long years of arduous labor. It might have been that Balin simply had chosen to exploit all his resources for the greater need to strengthen his foothold in the mines before he set word home. Or so Gimli had hoped.  
  
The events of tonight had put an end to all his hopes, and now he feared the worst.  
  
Leaning himself on his great battle axe, Gimli let his gaze travel over the line of his companions, and his gaze came to rest on the Elf again. The pointy-eared princeling looked pale, even given the scarce light Thakun's staff and Boromir's torch were casting; the flickering light of the torch caused eerie shadows dancing around them. In their light, the elven archer seemed even more slim and fragile than in daylight, and his face seemed to glow in an odd light of its own, emphasizing its paleness. He looked around again and again, his eyes wide, trying to pierce the darkness around them, and his movements missing any semblance of calm or grace; he seemed nervous and nearly skittish, as if spooked by the shadows. Gimli guessed that he had rarely been that deeply underground, or that deeply in a cave, although as far as he knew the Elf's father and his people were living underground. But then, Gimli doubted that those Elven halls could really compare to Khazad-Dum, even in the rare state of what had been left of it.  
  
It was nigh unbelievable that this flimsy creature should be a deadly warrior who could hold his own and be of any use to the Fellowship, beside the more uncouth uses the two men of the company forced on the Elven slave. And yet, Gimli recalled only too well that humiliating moment a few days ago when he had found himself flat on the ground, an Elven blade at his throat, without a clear account how he had ended up in this position; and he knew that but for that Elf giving in to Aragorn, he would have been dead, his throat cut, without so much as a chance to free himself in time.   
  
And he recalled grudgingly the endurance and hardiness the Elf had shown during that storm on Caradhras, and the grace and deadliness the archer had displayed during that fight against the wargs just the night before. Both had earned him Gimli's reluctant respect.   
  
Gimli thinned his lips. He knew that he should feel grim satisfaction at the Elf's obvious discomfort at his surroundings. And yet. The disregard and spite he had felt at the start for that flimsy-seeming son of the hated Elvenking who had once imprisoned Gimli's father seemed oddly hollow, now, like one of the things placed in his mind by that weird _otherness_ he had felt during the confrontation with the Elf six days ago.   
  
Gimli shuddered. Even now, the memory of red haze fogging his thoughts and slim tendrils of hate and cruelty winding around his mind and _pushing_ him made him shake with rage and filled him with anger and shame. He refused to let himself be tempted or possessed again, especially not by that thing Frodo carried; that he, a child of Mahal, made to resist such influence, nearly had fallen for it made it only harder.   
  
He had not yet found any opportunity to apologize to the Elf, beside that one, short promise he had given. He had planned to mend that, here, and yet keep the pride of his family.  
  
_It had been the perfect plan._  
  
Once they'd met up with Balin, Gimli would have made sure that Legolas was treated not as an unwelcome intruder, the son of a hated enemy, but with all the honor due to a royal guest, according to his original status as a prince of his people. Gimli would have made sure that the Elf would have been given his own chambers and all the respectful treatment given a honored envoy. It would have been the perfect revenge, a shameful slap both to Legolas' father, who had once treated Gimli's own father and Balin himself so very differently and would have nicely been put to shame by the greater generosity of the Dwarves, and to the two men of the Fellowship, who still insisted on treating their Elven companion as a slave. Especially, it would have put the arrogant Ranger into his place. And at the same time it would have been the best apology Gimli could give to Legolas himself, better than any words.  
  
Gimli had been sure he could have talked Balin into going along with it.  
  
Gimli sighed and bowed his head. Very obviously, that plan was impossible, now. He doubted that Balin was yet alive, and even if he was, he would hardly be in a position to grant anything. It did not look as if the project of recolonizing Khazad-Dum had been a success.  
  
Gimli sighed once more, turned and started to walk again. Quickening his steps, he soon caught up with the wizard and retook his place at the top of the company, second in line after Tharkun, which he had held ever since the company had entered Moria.   
  
They had yet a long way to go tonight.  
  
__________________ o ________________  
  
  
Legolas stared out into the darkness of the cave, straining all his senses. Behind him, on the secluded platform they had reached, he could hear the quiet noises of the Fellowship, settling down for rest; after what seemed like hours of walking Mithrandir had finally decided to let them stop for tonight. The platform was about twenty feet broad and carved into the rock like a natural shelter, and on the left and right it was bordered by great boulders of stone sheltering it from the narrow path they all had followed for the last three hours; to the fourth side, it ended in a gap, the bottom of which was swallowed by fathomless darkness. It might fall hundreds of yards down until one reached the bottom, or just forty; he could not see how deep it was in the dim light both the wizard's staff and Boromir's torch provided. Their light threw odd shadows to the lifeless rocks around them and on the far side of the gap, seemingly causing them to move.  
  
Legolas felt his mind starting to drift. The moment earlier tonight when he had gained new strength by the gift of the trees seemed far gone. He could not say how far they had traveled since they had entered the mines. There was no way to judge how far the night was advanced; no moon to light the way, no stars to turn to, no Tree-Song, in fact not even traces of the Song, since he could not tap into stone. All around them was nothing but darkness and stone, and a big, hollow emptiness devoid of noise, except the small sounds of the company themselves.   
  
_And yet...  
  
There was something out there. Waiting, lurking, evil... something old, something powerful...it was as if the shadows were flowing together, taking shape..._  
  
Suddenly, arms closed around him from behind and he nearly jumped.   
  
The grip on his forearms tightened.   
  
"Shhh... _Easy_ , Little Leaf, it is only me!" Aragorn said, and at the same moment, Legolas' subconsciousness registered the familiar smell of pipe-weed, the well-known sounds of his master's rasping voice.   
  
He relaxed. But in the next instant he tensed up again and bowed his head guiltily.  
  
"Forgive me, My Lord, I just..."  
  
Instead of a reply, Aragorn simply turned him around. He shook his head, signaling his slave with a simple look he wasn't angry. His hands on Legolas' arms traveled up, reached his shoulders, his neck, trailed through his hair...  
  
Legolas closed his eyes, simply savoring the sensation. _Estel..._  
  
Aragorn's voice, when it came, was soothing.   
  
"Shhh, it's all right," his master said, "I know you must be nervous."   
  
Legolas opened his eyes again and met his master's concerned gaze. Aragorn's hands caressed his ears, causing him to shudder, then they found his face, caressing his cheeks.   
  
"You are dead on your feet, Little Leaf," Aragorn chided gently. "When did you last find restful dreams?"   
  
He could not mean the last two nights, Legolas knew, but during the time before.   
  
Legolas bowed his head again and quickly looked down. He did not answer.  
  
Aragorn frowned, then he took a deep breath. His hands on Legolas' face hesitated for a moment.  
  
"I see," he said roughly, "Never mind. 'Twas a stupid question."   
  
His hands took up their caress again, traveling along Legolas' features, through his hair to his ears. Very quietly, he added: "I'm sorry, Little Leaf. But I still think it was the right decision."  
  
Legolas only nodded. "I know, Estel," he said in a equally low voice, "I'm sorry. I just..."  
  
Aragorn's fingers on his lips silenced him.  
  
"Shhh, it's all right," his master said, "I never expected you to like it."   
  
The fingers traveled up to the sides of his face again.   
  
Legolas dared to look up. He met Aragorn's gaze again, read the slight grief within his eyes, mixed with determination.  
  
He nodded. "I know, Estel," he dared to say, "thank you!"   
  
Then he drew a deep breath. There were more important things to address right now. "Estel," he began again, in an urgent tone, "there is..."  
  
Aragorn laid a finger on his lips again and stopped him. He changed to Silvain.  
  
"I know," he said in a low voice, "I feel it, too. There is something out there, and it is very evil. The sooner we leave these mines again, the better."  
  
Legolas gave him a questioning gaze, and Aragorn briefly shook his head. "Do not alarm the others. We can do nothing about it, now, and we can only hope we do not alarm it to our presence."  
  
His grim expression told how likely he thought that possibility to be.   
  
But he was right, and Legolas only nodded.   
  
_At least, if Estel felt it, too, his mind was not playing tricks on him._  
  
Then he thought back to last night, and began again, still speaking Silvain:   
  
"As you wish, My Lord. Estel..."  
  
Aragorn raised a brow, inviting him to continue, and Legolas plunged on, very seriously:  
  
"Thank you. Thank you for your request to Gandalf. I..."  
  
Aragorn drew a deep breath. His fingers found their way to Legolas' lips again, for a third time stopping his words.  
  
Very seriously, Aragorn said: "It is nothing more than you deserve, Little Leaf. I told you I would free you if I could."  
  
His voice was rough, and he clearly struggled with inner turmoil. After a moment, he continued: "Alas, I cannot, at least not yet. But if there is any chance to see it done, I would at least have Mithrandir free you of that spell and know you safe and healthy on your own again."  
  
Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed, but Aragorn just shook his head. There was pain and sorrow in his face, though it was hardly visible in the dim light.  
  
Legolas hardly dared to breathe. After a moment, his arms came up and clung to the Adan. "Estel!" he uttered, then he kissed the fingers still trailing his lips and breathed: "Thank you! Thank you, Estel!"  
  
Aragorn leaned forward and stole a kiss that was willingly given.   
  
"Do not thank me too soon," he said raspingly, "we do not know if it will even work, yet."  
  
Legolas clung to him, closing his eyes. He did not answer. For long moments, he just savored his master's touch, Estel's familiar feel and smell. It felt as if he had been deprived of him an impossibly long time. Aragorn did not stop him, but just held him, burying his face in his shoulder.   
  
Legolas gave himself over to the sensation in gratitude. Warmth filled him and gave him new strength, and dimly he felt that he started to drift into dreams again.   
  
Then, after what seemed like a small eternity, Aragorn withdrew a little and sighed.  
  
"Legolas..." his master began, and then he added with regret: "I believe it is Boromir's turn, again, tonight."  
  
Legolas' eyes flew open.   
  
For a moment, he could hardly bring himself to trust his ears. He stared at his master's face, startled and alarmed.  
  
Aragorn looked at him with visible regret, but clear determination.  
  
Legolas swallowed. "But, My Lord..." he began, and then took a deep breath. Finally, he gathered his wits again.  
  
"Boromir changed his mind in that regard, My Lord. He has released me of the bargain. He told me so this evening."  
  
Aragorn frowned. He stepped back, his face clearly showing his irritation.  
  
"You asked him to release you?" he demanded disbelievingly.  
  
Legolas braced himself against his master's anger. He shook his head.  
  
"No, My Lord, I didn't," he said. "My lord Boromir made that decision on his own. He said... that he would still be willing to help me out if there was need, and he would not deny me if I requested his help, but he would no longer demand it."  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes. He nearly turned to shoot a dark look at the Gondorian, who had settled down somewhere behind them, but then he aborted the motion. He shook his head and took the face of his slave into his hands again.  
  
"I am glad to hear that he apologized to you," he said, "and that seeing you fight apparently caused him to treat you with respect, again. Still, I wish he would not have gone that far."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Legolas... I still deem it best if the spell remains well fed. Last night..."  
  
He did not finish.   
  
Legolas looked down. _It was nothing more than he had expected. And yet..._  
  
He nodded. "I know, My Lord," he said tonelessly. "Still..."  
  
Finally, he looked up again. "Please, My lord, not tonight. I..." He trailed off and looked down again.  
  
"Forgive me," he whispered, "I..."  
  
Aragorn looked at him searchingly and puzzled. "I thought you said he apologized," he said. "Did he hurt you?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. Aragorn's frown deepened. Then he suddenly gasped. He hesitated.  
  
After another moment, he asked, very gently: "Would you prefer if it was me with you tonight?"  
  
Legolas could not help himself. He looked up again and met his master's eyes. Aragorn's eyes were dark in the dim light, but he could see both the desire and the slight grief in them.  
  
He shuddered. He knew this would be nothing like their coupling just three nights ago when Aragorn had given himself to him. This time Aragorn meant to feed the spell. He would be back at his cruel games again.  
  
Still, it would be Estel's hands on him, this night, it would be _Estel_ with whom he shared himself, _Estel_ who held him and soothed him afterwards. He did not believe he could bear anything else right now.  
  
He nodded.  
  
Aragorn swallowed hard.  
  
Nearly tonelessly, he said: "I would have to hurt you again, Little Leaf. I had hoped..."  
  
He trailed off, voice broken. Behind him, Legolas could see the sharp eyes of the wizard watching them.  
  
He shivered. _How much had Mithrandir heard of their exchange?_  
  
They stood a little apart from the others , to the side of the platform and near the gaping fall; during their exchange, the others of the Fellowship had settled down for the night and made camp. So far, they had been granted privacy; Boromir and the Hobbits, and even the Dwarf, had settled in a circle, relishing the light of Boromir's torch, and sharing a meager meal, and the Hobbits even politely turned their back to the Elf and his Ranger. However, Legolas could see Boromir, and also the Dwarf, shooting an occasional, narrow-eyed glance at him and Aragorn; and so did the wizard now.  
  
Finally, after a long moment, the Istar looked away again, apparently distracted by a remark from Frodo.  
  
Legolas shook himself. He concentrated back on his master.  
  
Aragorn regarded him with a familiar mixture of guilt and grief. Barely louder than before, he said hoarsely: "I had hoped Boromir and you would like each other, and you'd get used to him, and he and I could share in keeping the spell well fed for you. I... thought if we kept taking turns, I could..."  
  
He trailed off again. Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned.  
  
He understood perfectly, and he barely dared to breathe.  
  
_So, that was what Estel intended. If Boromir would feed the spell, then Aragorn would not need to play his cruel games and they could be together in more tender ways, like they had been that wonderful time a few nights before. If Aragorn was not required to feed the spell, he could be gentle. It would not be as satisfying for him that way, but still..._  
  
Legolas did not know if he should drown in grief or be overwhelmed by gratitude. He only knew one thing: _It was **Estel** whom he needed to be with him, tonight._   
  
Gathering himself, he said quietly: "I do understand. But please, My Lord, not tonight. Do not send me away from you, tonight."  
  
He drew a deep breath.   
  
"Please, Estel. Let me be with you, tonight," he pleaded.  
  
Aragorn drew a sharp breath.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked, nearly tonelessly, his voice hoarse and his eyes wide and dark with desire.  
  
Legolas nodded.  
  
Aragorn swallowed hard. Then he gathered himself.  
  
He let go of Legolas and straightened.  
  
"All right, then," he said, "I believe I saw another broader place just about thirty yards back down the path. It was around that last bend, and well secluded. We could take the torch with us for light, and we would not be long..."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Let's eat, and then get our packs," he decided. "I cannot wait to have you on my own again!"   
  
Legolas bowed to him and went to the place where he had left his pack.   
  
He braced himself.  
  
He knew this was not going to be easy. This would be nothing like their tender coupling a few nights ago.  
  
But at least Legolas would be with Estel again.   
  
And that was what he needed more than anything, at the moment.  
  
________________ o _______________  
  
  
The place Aragorn had mentioned was indeed some thirty yards down the path they had come, a smaller platform than the one where they decided to made camp, secluded from the sight of their comrades both by a bend around the rock and by several big boulders which crowded the path on both sides and which had made passage earlier strenuous for the taller members of the company. But now that very fact served to provide them the privacy they needed, and also a small measure of security; for if any attackers crept up on them, they could come only from the path they had come with the Fellowship earlier that night, and they would be warned by the noise that attackers would need to make in maneuvering through the passage.  
  
Aragorn signaled his companion to halt and settle down, and watched as Legolas acknowledged the mute command with a respectful bow and set out to create a small and temporary camp suited for their purposes. The Ranger shed his own pack and set it in easy reach, then he waited. Legolas worked with quiet efficiency, placing their packs to the side, securing the torch with a few stones, spreading out the blanket for their use, finally getting rid of his quiver and bow and placing them to the side, within easy reach. He made hardly any noise; the silence around them was deafening.  
  
All Aragorn could hear was his own, harsh breathing, and the occasional quiet sound of Legolas' preparations; and also, occasionally, there was the faint noise like an echo of the quiet chatter of some Hobbit-voices, coming from the general direction of the other camp up their path. They weren't loud, but eerily distorted; every sound was amplified and thrown back by the walls of the cave.  
  
He swallowed hard, looking back at his companion. He still could hardly believe that Legolas had chosen _him_ , had _asked_ him for this encounter, although his slave must know what that meant. There was hardly any way he could be gentle. That Legolas would want him to take him, even so... it filled him with wonder. Hot desire surged through him at that very thought.   
  
_And yet._  
  
He recalled only too well his longing at those memories of their time in Gondor, and at their gentle coupling a few night before... the idea of causing his companion pain again, to simply return to their familiar games, filled him with grief.   
  
But there was hardly any other choice.  
  
He was haunted by shreds of his vision again. _**Legolas' pale face, frozen in horror... shivering with need... his face grey, the clear eyes filmed over, the body burning in fever and yet cold to the touch... Gandalf's face, laced in sorrow, telling him they had to let the Elf go... loss, loss too overwhelming to even contemplate...**_  
  
He gasped and shoved the images away.   
  
_It would not happen, now! He had made sure of that! And if he needed to force Legolas to share himself with Boromir and even Gimli every second day, he would not let him die of the accursed spell if he could help it!_  
  
Breathing harshly, he brought his inner turmoil under control. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need to touch, to reassure himself that his Elf was alive and was indeed still _**his**_ to use and enjoy.  
  
Legolas finished the preparations and rose again. He stepped in front of his master with a respectful bow, waiting for his attentions.  
  
Aragorn stepped close and took him into his arms again. He buried his nose in the neck of his Elf and breathed in his scent deeply for a moment, tasting the unresisting neck under his lips, needing to feel the calm, sure pulse. He hugged his slave hard enough to stop his breath.  
  
Legolas was astonished at the fierce embrace, but suffered it obediently. It lasted only a moment, then Aragorn left off a bit and took his mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. Legolas opened up for him willingly and enjoyed the familiar taste of Estel on his tongue, the reassuring strength of his master's arms around him. He felt his own body react, felt himself fall into arousal and desire. His arms came up against his master's back, daring to touch. He knew he had not been allowed to do so, yet, but did not care. If Estel wished to punish him for that, so be it!  
  
But Estel merely hugged him back, and Legolas allowed himself to float in the familiar embrace.  
  
_Had he ever really thought that he could kill this man?_ The mere thought sent a stab of guilt through him, and he felt himself clinging more fiercely. _Estel!_  
  
After a moment Aragorn let him up for air. Withdrawing a little, his master said:  
  
"How I have missed this, Little Leaf! How I have missed _you!_ " One of his hand's came up, caressing Legolas' face.   
  
Aragorn withdrew a bit more and looked at his slave. Desire surged through him, ever mounting, and heat began to gather in his groin. Hoarsely, he said:  
  
"I cannot wait until we reach Lothlorien. Imagine! Maybe we can ask again for that special talan. There I could take care of you again, with proper toys and privacy. I can hardly wait!"  
  
He pictured Legolas and himself in that flet and felt saliva gather in his mouth.  
  
_Carags of every size, a selection of paddles and whips, and more intricate toys... restraints... and, even more importantly, privacy, safety and time for a long, elaborate play, one that started gently and grew slowly in intensity, one that Legolas could bear and maybe even enjoy..._  
  
He felt his groin harden.   
  
Legolas started. Fear and dismay surged through him, and he blanched a little. _But he had known that that waited for him there, so it was hardly a surprise. So why should he suddenly feel such disappointment?_  
  
Aragorn had seen the expression in his eyes and caressed his face.   
  
"Do not fear," he whispered roughly, "I will do nothing that you cannot bear. Not there, and not here. I will do only as much as I have to." He swallowed.  
  
Legolas met his eyes. He gave a little nod. "Thank you, My Lord," he said quietly.  
  
Aragorn decided to move on and start their game. Cocking a brow, he said casually:   
  
"But we have nothing of that here, so we must do with what we have, You realize, of course, that we will have to be very discreet tonight. I may have to gag you."  
  
Legolas paled a bit more, but he only swallowed and bowed his head. "If it pleases you, My Lord," he said tonelessly.  
  
The note of obedient and helpless resignation in his voice went directly to Aragorn's groin, and his arousal rose another notch.   
  
He let go of his slave and stepped back. "All right, then," he ordered sternly, "undress and kneel! I wish to see you! It is time we got started; we do not have all night!"  
  
Legolas could not repress a shiver at his tone. Wordlessly, he obeyed.  
  
It did not take him long. Aragorn meanwhile shed his sword and weapons and set them beside Legolas' bow. He then stooped to his quiver and retrieved that special package that held the small selection of toys they had brought from Rivendell. Standing again, he observed with grim satisfaction as his slave knelt before him, naked, legs apart, head respectfully bowed and waiting for his command. He allowed himself to savor the sight. He saw the Elf shiver with apprehension and an idea began to form in his head.   
  
_There was hardly any way he could be gentle. But maybe he could try something different..._  
  
He took a deep breath. "Beautiful!" he said. "You know, no matter how often we do this, I can never get enough of you!"  
  
With a fluid and graceful movement, he knelt down and reached out to tip up his slave's chin.   
  
"I choose not to tie your hands tonight. But I wish you to stay as you are now and do not move. Whatever I do to you, you are to bear it gracefully and not to move without my permission. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Legolas shivered. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "Perfectly clear, My Lord," he whispered. "At your pleasure."  
  
Aragorn smiled.   
  
"Good," he said, "because I have quite some plans for you, tonight! And since we do not have great choice of toys, I will take measures to make it even easier for you to concentrate on my attentions."  
  
Legolas gave him a puzzled look.   
  
Aragorn ignored it and reached for the bundle holding their toys. He opened it and took out a blindfold.  
  
Legolas paled.  
  
Aragorn lifted the blindfold so that Legolas could see it better.   
  
"Turn around," he commanded. "Legs apart, hands to your sides. Hold still so I can put it on."  
  
Legolas obeyed. He shivered harder. He nearly jerked as his master brought the black cloth up to his head. He had a very good idea what his master intended. And of course, it was not the first time Aragorn chose to blindfolded him during their games - but never under such circumstances. He could hardly suppress a gasp as the black cloth covered his eyes, cutting off what little light there was.   
  
He swallowed, trying to fight his mounting panic. _'Tis only a blindfold,'_ he chided himself, _'it will come off again'_ – but as his master fastened the cloth behind his head, he could feel the darkness reaching for him, becoming even more palpable...  
  
Aragorn fastened the cloth, then let his hands trail over the naked body of his slave. He savored the shivering, the nearly visceral reaction to his touch. His grip on the trembling body hardened.   
  
"There," he growled, "that's it! Now stay like that! Don't move, whatever happens! Do you understand?"  
  
Legolas swallowed a sob. "I do, My Lord!" he whispered.   
  
"Good," Aragorn growled, "for I have yet a few things in store for you, and I plan to enjoy you thoroughly!"  
  
And one of his hands trailed down to Legolas' yet flaccid groin, massaging and stroking.  
  
Legolas gave a little gasp. He was grateful for the touch, since it grounded him; and yet, he felt exposed. Aragorn's hands trailed up to his nipples and began to caress them, coaxing them to attention. Then his hands were gone. Legolas shivered in the dark, although he could hear his master rummaging nearby. The short moment of lost contact was nearly unbearable.  
  
_**He could feel the darkness coming closer, reaching to swallow them. There was something out there that he had never felt before, something beyond his imagination...**_  
  
He nearly jerked as the hands of his master were back on his body, fastening the clamps on his nipples. The pain was small compared to his mounting panic; indeed, it gave him something else to concentrate on besides the darkness. _And yet..._  
  
Suddenly he could not stand it anymore. He gasped.  
  
"Estel," he said, "the blindfold... I cannot..."   
  
He tensed a little, waiting for a blow. He knew he was breaking the rules, but he just could not help himself.   
  
Aragorn's hands on his body froze.   
  
"I have blindfolded you before," he said.  
  
Legolas shivered harder. "I know, My Lord," he said, "I'm sorry! Still..." He trailed off. _"Please!"_ he finally said.  
  
Aragorn hesitated. He watched his slave critically and hungrily. As it was, his little idea had worked beyond imagination. Legolas was nearly in panic, and the visceral fear and terror of his slave transferred directly to Aragorn's groin, making him hard and ready. A part of him wanted to savor this, was loath to stop now. Still...  
  
There was no immediate danger, he knew; if there had been, if Legolas had heard someone creeping up on them, the Elf would be already on his feet, ripping the cloth off. This had to be different. And yet. It was not like Legolas to break the rules in such a drastic way. If he did, it had to mean that he _**could not**_ bear this,  
  
Aragorn groaned inwardly. He felt his groin react.  
  
The temptation to draw it out, to savor the terror of his slave, was nearly overwhelming. He could see that Legolas was close to jumping up, be it to flee or fight he did not know. His slave kept himself in his place despite his panic just by will, and just to stay obedient to his master.   
  
The sense of power that went along with that thought was like strong, potent wine and made Aragorn's head swim.  
  
And yet. _He had promised..._  
  
"All right," he finally said, reaching up and unfastening the cloth, "I'll take it off. But listen closely! Here is what I want you to do. You are to keep your eyes closed. You are to keep them shut, whatever happens, until I give you permission to open them again. Do you understand?"  
  
Legolas gave a early imperceptible nod. "I do, My Lord!" he said.  
  
Aragorn grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. Bringing his mouth directly to one pointed ear, he growled: "If you disobey, if you defy me, I will make you wear the cloth all night. Do you understand?"  
  
Legolas gave a gasp. "I do, My Lord," he whispered.  
  
Aragorn let go of his hair and returned to unfastening the cloth. "Good," he said, "for I want you to appreciate what I have yet in store for you, and to give it your full attention. And I plan to savor you thoroughly, tonight!"   
  
The cloth came off. Legolas gave a little gasp of relief. He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see the dim light of the torch again, but kept them obediently shut, as his master had commanded. Even so, the blindfold gone, his panic somewhat subsided.   
  
Then Estel's hands were back on his body again, caressing, and Estel's mouth was back at his ear, teasing and nibbling a little.   
  
"Brave Little Leaf!" his master said, "I know that this is hard on you. But you will obey me none the less, will you not? You will be brave for me and trust me and savor all I will do to you!"  
  
Legolas breathed deeply and concentrated on the rasping voice, the caressing touch. The darkness retreated.   
  
"I do trust you, Estel," Legolas nearly inaudibly breathed, "I do trust you."  
  
Aragorn gave no sign that he had heard him. Instead, he drew him back against himself, and his hands took up their journey on Legolas' body again, finally settling on his clamped nipples, toying and teasing. The pain was small and familiar, and meanwhile, his master never stopped kissing and teasing the captive ear under his lips, in between telling him how beautiful he was, how brave, how much Aragorn had missed being with him...  
  
Under the steady caresses Legolas finally felt his body begin to react again, not just with pain and fear, but with desire, and his groin stirred. He gave himself over to the sensation.  
  
__________________ o ______________  
  
  
When it was over, Aragorn held his trembling, shivering slave in his arms and severely loathed himself.  
  
True, it had not taken much for him tonight. Legolas' complete obedience, his willingness to endure Aragorn's needs, and his trust in spite of his erstwhile palpable fear did a lot to build Aragorn's desire and get him all hard and ready; and the fantasy of what he would do to his slave once they had privacy and proper toys again had spurred him on; so much indeed that on top of that, it had needed only a few more choice cruelties for him to reach completion.   
  
Even more, he had made sure to see to his companion's needs as well and to bring him to climax with his mouth before he took him. Still, the night had been hard on Legolas again, and now he could feel his companion cling to his body, shivering, suppressing tears, obviously still in pain.   
  
"It is all right," Aragorn finally said, kissing his slave's still shut eyes, "it is over. You can open them again, now." He added a caress to his slave's back. The ban on movement had been lifted earlier during their joining, already.  
  
Legolas obeyed. The look of grief and desperation in his eyes went directly to Aragorn's heart.  
  
He bowed his head.   
  
"That's it," he finally said. "Tomorrow you will go to Boromir again. From now, he will be the one to give you what you need, at least until Lothlorien."  
  
He saw Legolas' eyes widen and shook his head.  
  
"Nay, do not protest," he said. "I will not touch you again to take my pleasure until we reach Lothlorien. There we will have privacy, and time, and I can at least try to make sure that you can enjoy our joining, too. Here, we have neither. I cannot do this to you again, Little Leaf. I will not!"  
  
His voice was hoarse.  
  
Legolas started. He looked at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving.  
  
"But, My Lord," he began, and then he said: "Estel!--"  
  
Aragorn silenced him with a finger on his lips.  
  
"I know I cannot cease to hurt you completely," he said, eyes full of grief, "at least not unless Gandalf succeeds in breaking that spell on you. I wish I could, but I can't. But... I won't do it here, again. Not like this."  
  
He kissed his slave's forehead. "Boromir can take care of you, for now. He will be good for you. He will not need to hurt you, to..." He trailed off.   
  
Legolas' eyes were wide with grief and understanding.  
  
"Estel," he carefully began, "I _asked_ to be with you, tonight. I..."  
  
Aragorn kissed him again.   
  
"I know," he said. "I know, Little Leaf. Still..." he trailed off.  
  
He shook his head, falling silent. Finally, he said: "I am right, and you know it. Please, obey me in this!"  
  
Legolas held his gaze for a moment, his own eyes wide in wonder. He read the grief and hurt in his master's eyes and felt the answering grief in himself.  
  
_Curse Elrond for what he had done to them, not only to Legolas' people, but also to this man, who had once been his own foster son and who had been and was the man who still owned Legolas' heart, in spite of everything!_  
  
After a long moment, Legolas finally reacted.  
  
He stole a kiss. Then he gave his master an obedient bow.   
  
"As you wish, My Lord," he said. "I will seek out Boromir again, tomorrow."  
  
  
___________________ o ________________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:   
  
(1) I remind everyone again that this story is based on Movieverse. _Bookverse_ , the Fellowship is three days and two nights in Moria and travels mostly through hewn or natural tunnels and halls; also, they have no other light than Gandalf's staff. _Movieverse_ , however, when we see the Fellowship enter Moria, Gandalf states firmly that it is a four-day-journey to the other side; then we see them traveling through the mines, which appear mostly as part of a big system of natural caves, which the occasional opening to the outside to let dim light in; and Boromir holds a torch. When they arrive at the three way gateway, Gandalf says to Frodo that Gollum has been following them for three days, meaning they have been at least three nights in Moria. All events afterwards happen in the course of a few hours. I decided to follow that time frame here. Please, bear with me!  
  
(2) _Tharkun – Khuzdul (probably)_ : the name the Dwarves used for Gandalf. Meaning unknown.  
  
(3) _Mahal_ : Dwarven name for Aule, the Vala who created the Dwarves according to their own mythology.


	46. Refuge

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful **Namarie** , who took over for Surreysmum. Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : some BDSM. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again, and stay very close to Tolkien's lines. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
 **XXXXIV. Refuge**  
  
  
Legolas dreamed...  
  
 _// / Hands roamed his body, caressing, teasing, driving him ever higher. A hot mouth closed over that special spot at his neck, nibbling; teeth grazed skin, followed by the caress of a soothing tongue. One of the hands roaming him wandered up to his throat, stroking softly; he gasped as the tongue followed the line of his neck up to his ear and licked along the sensitive lobe. A beloved, rasping voice told him of desire, praised his beauty; the hand on his stomach moved down, closer to his groin. He gasped again as clever fingers closed over his waxing member, stroking, teasing it to straining hardness. He wished that he could open his eyes, that he could see his lover, but he was not allowed to look, and so he kept them shut.  
  
But he felt familiar, well-worn leather against his back, and he was surrounded by the redolent smell of pipeweed, the reassuring scent of his master, and he felt the callused, clever fingers, knowing all too well where to caress to elicit a favorite reaction. The ever-present darkness, looming outside, could not touch him.  
  
The hand at his throat moved down to his nipples and started toying with the clamps. Pain reentered his feelings, causing discomfort, but it was small and at that moment merely adding spice. The other hand left his groin, and he gave a little moan of discomfort. He felt his master shifting position behind him, and then, suddenly, a hot mouth closed over his own, drowning his little gasp with a searing kiss. Then his master's lips left his own and wandered down to his throat, his collarbone, his nipples, kissing, nibbling, teasing. He was gently pushed back, and he obeyed, leaning against the grip of strong hands at his sides. Since he was not allowed to move, that was the only leverage he had.  
  
Then Aragorn's mouth closed over one of his clamped nipples, and he gasped again. His master proceeded to graze the captive, tortured flesh with his teeth, adding pressure, then soothing the abused body part with his tongue. He was mixing pain and pleasure expertly, and Legolas' desire raised another notch.  
  
Then his master's mouth moved on to the other nipple, and at the same time, Aragorn's hands left left their place at Legolas' back. "Stay like this!" his master ordered, and Legolas' muscles strained to compensate. It was an awkward position, because he had little leverage, and yet he managed. One of his master's hands trailed to his other nipple and toyed with the clamped flesh. Where the other hand was, he did not know, but he could hear a rustle at his side, and guessed that Aragorn was reaching for one of the toys.  
  
He gasped and tensed a little when the other hand returned to his body, trailing up his thigh toward his groin. The hand was teasing, stroking the skin, caressing, but never closing on the center of his desire. Then, finally, the callused fingers closed over his member and started to stroke, agonizingly slow and lightly at first, then mercifully settling into a steady rhythm.  
  
Legolas' breath hitched and quickened. He moaned a little, and was delighted when the hand on his member started to pump in earnest. Then a fingertip stroked over the swollen head of his turgid flesh – and searing pain stabbed through him, making him jerk, tearing through his bubble of desire and nearly causing him to open his eyes. Only the fear of what punishment would await him if he did caused him to keep them shut. But he could feel the tears form under his closed lids.  
  
Irritant! The pain was agonizing, and it made his member wane again. He bit his lips, forcing back the sob that tried to escape his throat. **He was used to this! He could bear it!** But he could feel his body starting to tremble. And even when, moments later, his master's mouth closed over his burning flesh, soothing, licking, and the hands cupped his backside, giving support, he could not shake the sudden desperation and the cold, harsh grip of pain around his heart.../ // _  
  
\-- Legolas woke with a start. It took him a moment to get his bearings; he was lying in his master's arms, and they were back in camp. There was no light beside the dim glow of Gandalf's staff. Around him, he could hear the deep, steady breathing of the Fellowship. The wizard had volunteered to take the watch this night again. Aragorn was sleeping, deep and dreamlessly. He was only a mortal, after all, even if of the blood of Númenor, and his body was demanding its right. He did not even wake at the small movement of his slave, who was firmly nestled in his arms again.  
  
Legolas took a moment to bring his breathing back under control. He knew he should sleep too, since he desperately needed rest, but for the moment it seemed impossible to return into reverie. He tried to force himself back on the path of dreams, tried to recall other times when he and Estel had made love, or had shared tenderness; that night just a few days ago, when Aragorn had given himself to him, or other occasions, further back when they had made love without cruelty and pain.  
  
It didn't work.  
  
Always when he recalled a thought, a memory of gentleness, other images invaded: _Hot wax pouring on his straining member... Aragorn's harsh voice, commanding him to keep silent, to thank him for another punishment... the whip, descending, beating against his skin, leaving welts... cruel restraints, biting into his ankles..._  
  
Legolas gave up. Gently disentangling himself from his master, he rolled out of Aragorn's arms and got up. He took a moment to tuck Aragorn back under the blanket again, then he straightened and looked around.  
  
The Fellowship was sleeping. Over the dimly visible, prone bodies, he could see the shape of the wizard, comfortably leaning back against the wall of stone. The dim glow of his staff was accompanied by the small glow of his pipe, for moments highlighting his face; Legolas met his disapproving gaze and offered him a nod. Then he ignored him and settled down close to the ledge, his back to his companions, staring out into the dark.  
  
He tried to calm his thoughts. This was hardly the first time Estel had tortured him, and not by far the worst one. Estel had been gentle! He had done his best to keep Legolas' discomfort small, to cause him little pain; he had gone out of his way to make it possible for his slave to enjoy it! Legolas knew, when Aragorn had taken him in his mouth last night, it must have caused himself nearly as much pain at first as he had caused his slave. He knew that Aragorn would have preferred to force him through wearing the blindfold all the time during their coupling, yet he had given in to Legolas' request to keep their joining bearable for his slave. He had done all he could under the circumstances to make the whole encounter tolerable for his companion.  
  
And even those other occasions that he had just recalled had hardly been that bad. True, there was that one, last time in Rivendell when Aragorn had been exceptionally cruel, but that had been about survival, and Estel had probably been under the influence of the Ring, back then...  
  
And there were other memories. The one when Estel drank down the potion that would bind him to Legolas, triumphantly, in open defiance of his foster-father... unwittingly sealing both their fates in a misguided act of love. That time in Gondor when Aragorn had nearly killed himself, trying to find a way to feed the spell without causing Legolas pain. The despair of his master when he first learned that he could no longer function as a man without causing his partner torment. Aragorn's self-loathing when he first extended the spell and learned he had tightened the bond even more by his own clumsiness...  
  
And then that last, unbelievable proof of his master's love and concern, when Aragorn had promised him that he would help him to free Legolas' people. Even the command to go to Boromir was born out of desire to give Legolas a respite from his master's cruel needs.  
  
And yet. All Legolas could feel when he recalled last night was emptiness, and pain, and hollow despair.  
  
But what had he expected? _What was wrong with him?_  
  
He jerked a little as suddenly, a hand settled on his shoulder. Discipline alone kept him from reaching for his knives – which weren't there, he realized. He had left them with his quiver at his and his master's bedroll.  
  
The grip on his shoulder tightened a bit, and he looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of Boromir. Then the Adan settled down beside him. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly.  
  
Legolas looked down, avoiding the Man's eyes. He just nodded.  
  
"I fear that restful dreams escape me here," he offered. "I might only be capable of finding true rest once we have left these caves again."  
  
He did not say more. Aragorn had forbidden to alert the others, and there was no point in making the other Adan's unrest worse.  
  
Yet his words seemed enough, for the human nodded.  
  
"Me, neither," Boromir offered. "I have been underground before, once or twice; there are some tunnels carved into the mountain my city is built upon. We use them for military purposes, and... for other means. But I have never encountered anything like this." He made a gesture with his head, indicating their surroundings. "I still feel as if we are treading through a tomb."  
  
Legolas shivered. A tomb was just a place to lay the dead to rest. But these mines were inhabited by more than just the dead, and what inhabited them was far more powerful – and far more evil. It might have been a realm of Dwarves, once, but now it was a place best left alone.  
  
He had no idea what happened to the _fëar_ of the Dwarves once they had died; maybe their souls passed from the world, like those of men, or maybe they also went to Mandos, like the _fëar_ of the Eldar. But even if they stayed where they had lived, Legolas did not think that all their anger and unrest could account for that what he had felt out there, in the darkness. Not even the _fëar_ of the Houseless 1, frightful as they could be, could exude such power, or such evil.  
  
Nor could a mere breeding ground of Orcs account for that.  
  
He shook his head and banished the thought.  
  
"I, too, have been underground before," he offered. "But never like this."  
  
Legolas gave the man sitting beside him a shy look. He decided against telling Boromir of his father's halls. That would only provoke more questions about the reasons why he had given himself up and why his people had not risked a siege back then, and he did not care to repeat that discussion.  
  
Boromir sighed.  
  
"I can imagine," he said. "I've seen how much you care for being close to living things. Those trees, or even bushes... and you said once that you missed the stars, even though there were merely clouds covering them from sight at the time. This must be especially hard for you."  
  
Legolas looked at him, surprised and touched. He had not been aware the other man had watched him so closely.  
  
"I..." he began, and swallowed, stopping himself. Finally, he continued: "I do indeed miss them. The stone does not sing to me like they do. At least, I cannot hear it."  
  
Boromir looked at him, amused and surprised. "The stars sing to you?" he asked disbelievingly.  
  
Legolas looked away. He nodded.  
  
"Everything has a place in the Song," he said wearily, "it is just more difficult to hear some tunes than others. I cannot hear the Song of stone. Maybe the Dwarves are more keen at that. But I am more in tune with trees, and with the stars."  
  
He did not expect the man of Gondor to understand him. Probably, the Adan would just think that he was being mocked...  
  
But Boromir startled him.  
  
"You are full of surprises, master Elf," he said, sounding genuinely astonished. "It must be fascinating to have such a gift. And very useful. Was that what you were doing out there, today, communicating with the trees?"  
  
Legolas gave him a sharp look. But the Adan did not seem trying to taunt him; he had asked a real question.  
  
Suddenly sad, Legolas looked down again and nodded.  
  
"I did," he said. "They warned me of the Watcher in the Water. But I was too late to warn the others."  
  
Boromir grimaced.  
  
"A pity," he said, "although I fear even a timely warning would not have availed us greatly against that thing."  
  
He sighed again, and, very tentatively, laid a finger on Legolas' arm.  
  
"You should try to find some rest, master Elf," he offered. "As hard as it may be to do so. You have been as weary as any of us even before we entered these mines, and I doubt that even Elves can go on indefinitely without sleep."  
  
Legolas froze a little under the touch, but to his surprise, it did not feel demanding. Instead, the gesture felt welcome.  
  
He hesitated. Normally, he would not have been allowed to let another touch him besides his master, except with Aragorn's explicit permission, or on his master's expressed command; but this was different. After all, Aragorn had practically ordered him to seek out Boromir again.  
  
Legolas swallowed.  
  
"Boromir," he began, and then he blurted out: "My master has asked me to lie with you again. May I... may I ask you if..."  
  
He bit his lips. Boromir removed his fingers from his arm. His face showed anger.  
  
"Again?" he asked. "Have you not told him that I called the bargain off?"  
  
Legolas hung his head. _There went the new-found friendship and respect Boromir had just showed him._  
  
"I have," he said. "But as I said, he deems it best that the spell should be fed often. And... and he would ask to have your help in that."  
  
He studiously avoided the Gondorian's gaze.  
  
Boromir studied him for a moment.  
  
Finally, he asked incredulously: "And you condone this?!"  
  
Legolas looked down.  
  
"It does not matter what I think..." he began, but Boromir cut him off.  
  
"Yes, it does," he said, his face grim. "I do not understand how he can still ask this of you! He tells me that you deserve my respect, and he is right. But he himself treats you like this?! Besides, he did feed the spell just today, did he not? I do not see why this would be necessary, then, unless..." He trailed off. Looking at the Elf with wide eyes, he whispered disbelievingly: "You cannot mean-"  
  
Legolas swallowed hard. He blushed. There was no way that he could tell the Adan the truth. And yet, the man of Gondor had no idea how close he had indeed hit the mark.  
  
He could not bring himself to meet the Adan's gaze.  
  
Finally, after a long moment, he forced himself to speak again.  
  
"Does it... does it matter why he deems it best that I should seek you out?" he asked quietly. "He has his reasons, and they are more than just a whim. This evening, you offered that I could come to you at need, or even for comfort, as a friend. Would you withdraw that offer?"  
  
Boromir hesitated.  
  
Finally, after a long pause, he shook his head. "No, I would not," he said. "But as a friend, it is hard to watch what he puts you through. And I recall I said I'd welcome you gladly, as a friend, if you came to me out of free will, not forced and by command."  
  
He paused again.  
  
"Do you want it, then?" he asked after a moment, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Legolas still avoided his gaze.  
  
He knew that the answer that sprang unbidden to his mind – repeating, again, that it did not matter what he wished – would not satisfy the man of Gondor. That reply would lead him nowhere.  
  
So, finally, he said: "I... I would like to take you up on your offer. I would like to come to you as a friend, Boromir."  
  
He swallowed again. "If you allowed it."  
  
Boromir reached out and very lightly touched the Elf's arm again. Mustering his strength, Legolas managed not to flinch. But he could not suppress his slight trembling.  
  
Boromir retrieved his hand again. He shook his head.  
  
"I do not understand you," he finally said. "But I will not go back on my offer. If you come to me as a friend, I will gladly receive you."  
  
He sighed. "Still, I will have a word with your master again," he went on. "It is a shame how he treats you, despite all what he said to me. I will not stand for this!" He sounded determined.  
  
Legolas raised his head in alarm. "Boromir!-" he began, but Boromir shook his head.  
  
"No, do not protest," he said grimly. "He can hardly punish you for what I have to say to him, can he? I think it is high time somebody told that Ranger a few things about the proper way to treat a fellow warrior. Or even how to treat a servant! If any of my officers in Gondor dared to treat his subordinates that way, he would have to answer to me! And afterwards, he might find himself a few ranks lower!"  
  
Legolas looked at him in surprise and gratitude. He still did not feel very comfortable with the Gondorian's sudden determination to give Aragorn a tongue-lashing; besides, he remembered only too well the attitude Boromir had shown to him only a few days before, and it was unlikely that Aragorn had forgotten, either. Legolas recalled the time he and Estel had spent in Gondor, years before Boromir had been born. It had not been too great a fate to be a poor and lowly servant, even then, for many of the ordinances or maids and servants of the noble lords. He was sure that Boromir's sudden change of attitude and his determined words about subordinates referred only to free soldiers, and to the Adan's new perception of him as a fellow warrior. He doubted that Aragorn would take that bit of hypocrisy very well; he feared it might well come to blows between the two men on his behalf. But he did not know what to say without destroying what he had just gained.  
  
On the other hand, Boromir's show of friendship warmed his heart. It reminded him of Halbarad; indeed, Aragorn had received a similar tongue-lashing by Halbarad several times, in the past.  
  
So, after a moment, he carefully began: "Boromir, there truly is no need..."  
  
Boromir shook his head and cut him off.  
  
"I know," he said. "Your loyalty to your master honors you. But this is between him and me."  
  
Legolas swallowed. "Boromir," he began anew, "I have been with my master for over sixty years. He has explained to me why he deems it best for me to seek you out, and his reasoning is sound. Please, believe me that you need not defend me."  
  
Boromir looked at him and smiled. "Do not concern yourself," he offered. "As I said, this is between me and him. I will make that very clear to him." He sighed. "Go to sleep, Legolas; seek some rest, at least as much as you may find. If we encounter any attack in these mines, we need your bow to defend us, and we need you at full strength!"  
  
With that, he gave Legolas' arm another short squeeze and rose. He stretched for a moment, yawning, then made it over to his bedroll and settled down again.  
  
Legolas' eyes followed him.  
  
He was still a bit astonished at the Adan's changed attitude and did not entirely know what to make of it. A few days before in the Gondorian's mind he had been nothing but a bed-toy, just some lowly scum, and now he was something like a damsel in distress? The idea nearly made him smile.  
  
And yet, at the same time, the Gondorian treated him as a respected fellow warrior? Some kind of soldier who had to be protected against his too cruel commander?  
  
Shaking his head, Legolas contemplated what Aragorn would have to say to the Gondorian's sudden change of perspective. Then his thoughts strayed off to Halbarad, and he imagined the dry comment Aragorn's second-in-command would have to say about Boromir's attitude. That train of thought nearly made him laugh.  
  
In any case, it was reassuring that the Gondorian was willing to offer him friendship; and the thought of seeking him out again had just lost a lot of its dread, although it was yet to be seen if Boromir would still respect him afterwards.  
  
But on the other hand, Halbarad had always managed to do that. He had proved to be a true and dearly liked friend. Maybe, if the Gondorian indeed stayed true to his word, he could become a good friend, too?  
  
Sighing, Legolas decided to follow Boromir's counsel if he could. He rose and, with a nod to Gandalf, made his way over to his sleeping master again. Carefully, he settled back into Aragorn's arms, taking care not to wake him up. And this time, sleep found him and his dreams remained untroubled; and somehow, the darkness seemed not so close anymore.  
  
_________________ o _________________  
  
  
When Legolas awoke, there was light. It was but dim and weak, but it was steady, and it originated obviously not from Gandalf's staff, for it seemed to come from a place in the caves around the bend and ahead of them. It illuminated the cave on the other side of the gap that opened beside the small landing where they had sought their rest last night.  
  
He rose quickly, but a reassuring hand settled on his shoulder, calming him. "Peace," the voice of his master said quietly, "it is not a source of danger. There are some shafts at certain places that provide light and air in these mines."  
  
He sat up in wonder. Aragorn sat beside him, combing his hair. Behind the Ranger, Legolas could see the Hobbits and hear their excited chatter.  
  
Not far from them, Boromir sat up. "What is this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, "it looks like daylight!"  
  
Merry chimed in: "Yes, it does, doesn't it? There must be a crack somewhere in the roof of the cave, or maybe a way out! In any case, it does much to improve the place, if you ask me!"  
  
Sam's concerned voice intruded: "That's no reason to make such a ruckus, Master Merry. We do not know who else might hear us while we're here!"  
  
Pippin chimed in: "Oh, come on, Sam! It's not as if we were yelling!"  
  
They were interrupted by Gandalf, who chose this moment to step between them.  
  
"He is right, nevertheless, Master Peregrin," the wizard said. "We still need to be very careful. But you are right also, Master Meriadoc. It is real daylight. The mines of Moria had a system of shafts and openings to the outside to give them fresh air and some added light, at least by day. There are shafts that lead to the surface, most of them small and using a systems of mirrors to reflect the light, well placed at chosen points. It means that we are now near one of those points."  
  
He smiled at them. "So, now we know at least that it is day out there."  
  
The Hobbits looked at him, and he seemed about to say more, but Legolas did not longer follow their conversation. He was on his feet.  
  
"May I investigate?" he offered.  
  
Gandalf drew his brows together. "There is no need..." he began, but Aragorn cut him off.  
  
"Of course you may," he said quickly, and added then: "Just do not take too long! We will start on our journey again, soon, and you have not yet had any breakfast."  
  
Gandalf looked at him, irritated, but Legolas already bowed to his master and grabbed the harness with his weapons. "I will, My Lord; thank you!" he said and was gone. He did not even take the time to care for his bedroll or his pack, leaving everything laying at will, and vanished around the bend of the path ahead of them.  
  
Aragorn watched him go with a smile. "There he goes again, 'seeking the sun'," he observed.  
  
Gandalf turned to him.  
  
"That was unwise, son of Arathorn," he admonished, "These mines are dangerous! One might get easily lost if one does not know the way! And we do not know if the way he takes to find that beam of light is also the way our path will lead us!" He shook his head. "The Fellowship needs must stay together!"  
  
Aragorn withstood his gaze and shrugged. "Legolas has a good sense of direction," he said, "and I trust he will be back in a short time. He will not long delay our departure."  
  
He dropped his gaze. "I do not see any harm in this," he finished. But he looked away when he said it, and Gandalf got the impression that he had been about to say more, but then thought better of it.  
  
Gandalf gave him a sharp look, but Aragorn remained silent.  
  
Gandalf shook his head. "I hope that you are right," he said, "but I still deem it unwise." And with that he turned away and walked over back to his pack.  
  
Aragorn turned back to combing his unruly hair again.  
  
Boromir had watched the exchange with pursed lips. Now he rose and walked over to Aragorn.  
  
"Master Ranger," he said quietly, "a word." And he nodded towards the path in the direction from which the Fellowship had come the night before, making it clear that he meant to have that word in private.  
  
Aragorn sized him up with narrowed eyes for a moment, then he sighed, put his comb away and grabbed his sword. He rose and gave the other man a small nod.  
  
"As you wish, Master Boromir," he answered ironically, and followed the other man around the boulders that had offered them cover during the night, and a short ways down the path he and Legolas had walked the night before.  
  
Boromir did not take him far. For one, the faint light did not reach far into the cave in the direction they were walking, and secondly, they did not wish to leave the camp behind for long; they just wanted to have some privacy.  
  
Finally, Boromir halted his steps and turned to the Ranger, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Aragorn stopped also. Turning to the other man, he asked rather impatiently: "What is it?"  
  
Boromir looked grim. "Legolas told me that you have ordered him to lay with me again tonight," he said.  
  
Aragorn hesitated. _So soon? He had not even know that Legolas had left his arms last night!_  
  
"Yes, I asked him to seek you out again," he said evenly. "What of it?"  
  
Boromir made a face.  
  
 _ **"What of it?!"**_ he asked incredulously. _"How can you do this to him?_ He told you that I called the bargain off, did he not?!"  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes. "So he did," he said. "However, that does not change the situation. I still deem it best if we take care to keep the spell well fed. If anything, the need to do so has become more pressing during the last few days, for they proved that we might face attack or hot pursuit at any time. So it is best that when we have no chance to pause and feed the spell, maybe for days to come, Legolas will have a longer time until he is overtaken by need."  
  
He stopped. After a moment, he added: "I had hoped you would be willing to help with that. However, if you aren't..." He shrugged and made as if to turn away.  
  
Boromir grabbed his coat and pulled him back.  
  
Aragorn fended off his grip and turned back to him with a snarl. He resisted the impulse to place a fist in the other man's face. "What?" he hissed.  
  
Boromir did not seem intimidated.  
  
"I said that I would not deny him if he was in need, or if he came to me out of free will and as a friend," he said. "But that does not mean you shall order him to lie with me as if he was a whore! You tell me to respect him, and I do. But you yourself, you treat him like..." he trailed off.  
  
So far, they had both kept their voices low, since they were but a few paces from the camp and did not care to be overheard by the others. However, now Aragorn had to make a conscious effort to calm himself again.  
  
He straightened. "Like a possession?" he finished Boromir's sentence sharply, but quietly. "Well, he is. He is my slave, if you recall, at least by law of Rivendell and of Lothlórien. But that is not why I asked him to seek you out again."  
  
He held Boromir's angry gaze for just a moment, then looked away. "You have not seen what this spell does to him. It... is not pretty."  
  
Boromir remained unimpressed. "Worse than one of your 'punishments'?" he challenged.  
  
Aragorn paled and flinched.  
  
Boromir pressed his point. "Was it not a _'punishment'_ that had him so injured at the beginning of or Quest? He took days to recover, if I recall. But he was well enough the day before we left, during the council!"  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. But he recovered quickly.  
  
"You have no idea of what you speak," he said grimly. "That _'punishment'_ was ordered by the Lord of Rivendell, for some perceived insult, and if he would have had his way, Legolas would have been killed. I could barely protect him."  
  
He shook his head, eyes dark. "And yes, still what that spell does to him is worse. Much worse."  
  
Finally, Aragorn met Boromir's gaze again. "I cannot force you to keep helping me to feed the spell for him, if you do not desire it," he said tiredly. "Still, I think that it would be best for Legolas if we kept it well fed. That is why I asked him to seek you out."  
  
Boromir looked disgusted.  
  
"And if he does not, you beat him again?" he spat.  
  
Aragorn's face turned dark.  
  
Icily, he replied: _"I do not think that is any of your business, Boromir!"_  
  
Boromir didn't relent.  
  
"It is not?" he asked, "I think it is! Do you not see? You demand that we treat him with respect, and you do well, for he deserves to be treated thus! But you yourself should treat him with respect as well! He is a fellow warrior, not something to be lend out at a whim!"  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes and glared at him.  
  
"As much as I appreciate your sudden change of heart," he said sarcastically, "it is a rather sudden turn, is it not? Just a few days ago you could not wait until I sent my Elf back to your arms again! And you treated him as the lowest scum. I'm glad you changed your mind! But Legolas has not changed since then, nor has the situation. And I do not think he asked you to defend him, either!"  
  
Boromir made a face. "He didn't," he admitted. "That Elf defends you even when you beat him, after all. And I admit that it took me quite long to see my foolishness."  
  
After a moment's pause, he added harshly: "But that is neither here nor there. 'Tis true that Legolas did not ask me to defend him against you. But since he won't do it himself, somebody has to. You are a Ranger, are you not? A leader of your people. What would you do if one of your own men treated a fellow warrior that way?"  
  
Aragorn stared at him for a moment, fighting the impulse to attack. Then he suddenly recalled where he had heard that argument before.  
  
 _How Halbarad would smirk if he could see him now!_  
  
Banishing the thought of his second-in-command, shook his head.  
  
"I have been told something like that before," he muttered reluctantly. "However, it is not that easy."  
  
Aragorn sighed. "Look, what about a truce? Just keep in mind that if everything goes well, in a few days we will pass through Lothlórien. By their law, Legolas is still a slave. And they will not appreciate it if you stand up and tell them that their laws are wrong. In fact, it would not help Legolas either. There are more hostages than him at stake, remember?"  
  
Boromir stared at him. "So we do what?"  
  
Aragorn shrugged. "If you deny him, I will see to keep the spell well fed on my own. However..."  
  
Boromir cocked his head. "If Legolas should come to me out of free will, then I will not deny him," he said, "nor will I ever deny him at need. But he has to come to me himself, not at your order."  
  
Aragorn said nothing. _It would not do to tell the other man that since Legolas had been ordered to go to him last night, Aragorn would not need to repeat that command, and that Legolas would not even dream to disobey it._  
  
So he merely nodded noncommittally, and said: "We should go back. The camp will soon be broken."  
  
Boromir narrowed his eyes. But he sensed that he would hardly gain another answer. So he just scowled and followed the other man back to the campsite.  
  
________________ o ______________  
  
  
Legolas followed the light. He ran on the path, all his senses intent on the dim shimmer of daylight he could see ahead and on reaching the place where the beam would hit the ground directly. He passed two openings to tunnels at the side, as well as a crossing where the path split up after a small stone bridge, one way turning to the right and further up, the other straight ahead into the direction the light was coming from. He slowed barely down, just taking the time to check that there was no obvious threat in each of the tunnels he passed and to register where he was going, so that he could find his way back later. The promise of daylight ahead called to him like a beacon, irresistible, beckoning him to seek it out. A third hole opened to a tunnel to his right, and then he finally reached his goal: he stood at the base of a big boulder that forced the path to make a bend around it, and on the top of that great piece of rock, the beam of light hit the walls of the cave. He did not hesitate; the boulder was not very hard to climb, and soon he had finally reached the top and stood in a puddle of light.  
  
It was not direct sunlight; he could not see the face of Anor as he looked up to the opening where the beam originated. But even so, in the smothering darkness of the cave, the halo of daylight surrounding him seemed as brilliant as the brightest mid-day.  
  
After the encroaching darkness of the mines, after the panic he had felt the night before under his master's blindfold, the beam of brightness was a most welcome relief. It reassured him, replenished his strength, and gave him hope in ways he had hardly expected. He strained all his senses to maybe grasp a faint wisp of the Song, but he could not discover any; the Tree-Song as well as the delicate threads of other living things in the great music apparently were too far away to make it down here to this remote place deep within the mountain.  
  
But still, the light resting on his face did wonders to balance the terror he had felt last night. He could still feel the presence of something very powerful and very evil lurking somewhere deep in the darkness of the caves around him; but somehow, the reminder of the day lessened the power of that evil presence and helped him to restore his strength.  
  
Legolas did not know how long he stayed there, standing in the faint refuge of light and drinking it in as if he could store it up for later. It might have been mere moments, or it might have been half an hour.  
  
Finally, he rose again, and with some regret he jumped down to the path and began the way back to the camp. He made haste, suspecting that he had stayed longer than he had intended.  
  
He never saw the cold, gleaming eyes that followed him when he passed the mouth of one of the tunnels.  
  
  
__________________ o __________________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) _Fëar_ _– Sindarin_ : Soul. The _'Houseless'_ are _fëar_ of Elves who, after being killed, refuse the call to Mandos and remain in Middle Earth, without a body (house) and therefore incapable of inhabiting the world, but also incapable of leaving it. They are feared by living Elves because they might attempt to enter their mind and try to possess or even steal their bodies. The spirits of dead men, on the other hand, normally leave the world and can do little harm – with the exception of the undead Ringwraiths.  
  
  
Additional Author's note:  
  
I'd like to take a moment here to thank my former Beta Surreysmum once more, who patiently worked with me on this story for over a year and made it far better during that time, as well as teaching me more about English along the way than I thought I would ever learn. Now, she decided she needed a break. I am very happy to announce that Namarie volunteered to take over. Thank you both! This story would be decidedly less good without your work!


	47. Of Friends And Foes

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
  
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful and encouraging **Namarie!** Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.   
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. special warning for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again, and stay very close to Tolkien's lines. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
**XXXXV. Of Friends And Foes**  
  
  
To Legolas' dismay, the company did not take the path he had scouted out earlier that day, but instead went down the other turn, leading them away from the beam of light and deeper into the fathomless darkness of the caverns. He watched the light dwindle behind him, replaced only by the glow of Gandalf's staff, and had to suppress a sigh. Even so, his brief foray into the reminder of the outside world and the reassuring brightness of the sun had done much to lessen the impact of the encroaching darkness of the caves and lift his spirits. Somehow, the fathomless depths of the mines and the absence of daylight and of the Song were easier to endure now, although he still could feel the powerful evil lurking somewhere in the dark.  
  
But none of their steps on this journey had been without danger; and so he merely stayed alert while he followed Gandalf on the path, up the steps cut into the very stone, through the mines, looking at his surroundings in wonder.  
  
He walked at the head of the line, directly after the wizard. When he had returned from his short scouting trip, in the morning, he had picked up immediately on the tension between his master and Boromir, and guessed that Boromir had made good on his promise the previous night to confront Aragorn about him. Not wanting to deepen the rift, he had reported his findings as briefly as he could, had packed up his belongings and accepted some food from Master Samwise, and had then done his best to stay as far away from both Edain as he could. When the fellowship started on their way again he had chosen a place at the front, since the two Edain walked at the rear. Unfortunately, that placed him in close proximity of the Dwarf. But so far, the Stunted One had left him alone. Legolas was grateful for it.  
  
So, he nearly jumped when suddenly a gruff voice beside him addressed him:   
  
"Master Elf, a word!"  
  
Startled, Legolas looked down at the speaker. Ever since that confrontation a few days ago, he had done his best to stay out of the Stunted One's way – save that short exchange directly before the doors of Moria. He had felt Gimli's eyes on him, several times, but done his best to ignore it. He had hoped the Nogoth had learned his lesson and decided to leave him alone.   
  
Apparently, though, Gimli had other ideas.   
  
Swallowing his unease, Legolas answered politely: "What is it, Master Dwarf?"  
  
Gimli cleared his throat.   
  
"You are a skilled warrior, Master Elf," he began. "That last night on the hill, your bow was a great asset for us to keep the Wargs at bay so they did not overwhelm us by sheer numbers. And that beast in the water was thrown back by the arrow you sent in his eye."  
  
He harrumped again. Then he added formally:  
  
"I might have been wrong when I doubted your value for our company."  
  
He bowed.  
  
Legolas was stunned. For a moment, he did not know quite how to reply; he could only guess what it must have cost the Stunted One to say that much; and it was very likely as much of an apology as he would get. He fought down any arrogance and bowed back.  
  
"Your axe has been of great value for us, too, during that fight," he answered politely, "and in the end, it was Gandalf's fire that kept the Wargs from overwhelming us. But I thank you, Master Dwarf, and I admit that I was wrong to doubt your value for our company, as well."  
  
Gimli straightened, and for a moment, his face hardened; but then, the moment passed and he shrugged. He cocked his head.   
  
"Fair enough," he said. "There is no love between our people, and I deem you would have preferred other company than mine, as well. Still, I am glad to know your bow is with us."  
  
Legolas nodded and gave him a small bow. "And your axe," he added.  
  
The Dwarf nodded, obviously satisfied, and started to walk again. Legolas followed suit.   
  
"Pray, tell me," Gimli began, "you seem at unease underground. I am aware that you and your folk may be more at home in your woods, but I thought your people lived within a cave, too?"  
  
Legolas hesitated. After a moment, he replied guardedly:  
  
"It has been long since I lived in my father's halls, Master Dwarf. But in any case they are nothing like these mines. They are not as vast and dark, and not as empty."  
  
Gimli harrumped. He walked silently for a few moments; then, he finally replied: "These mines have not always been dark and empty, Master Elf. This is a part of the great realm and the city of the Dwarrowdelf, and of old it was not darksome, but full of light and splendour, as is still remembered in our songs." (1)  
  
And he began to chant in a deep voice: _"The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the moon was seen..."_  
  
Legolas listened in wonder. The Dwarf had actually a good singing voice. He had never heard this song, nor had the Hobbits, who came closer to listen intently. But after only a few verses, the wizard intervened.  
  
"As respectable as the memory of your people is, Gimli, son of Gloin," he chided, "I would suggest that you sing that song at another time. We cannot afford to draw the attention to ourselves of what- or whomever might be listening."  
  
Reluctantly, the Dwarf stopped his song. "These halls were occupied by my people for thousands of years," he finally said. "They were the oldest of the dwellings of my people. The Elves have called these halls Moria, 'Dark Chasm', but my people name them Khazad-Dûm. And they were not darksome, but filled with light and songs, the sound of harps and chisels, and the work of delvers and smiths and masons. Lamps of crystal were hewn here to catch the light of sun and moon, and many-pillared halls of stone, and there were smithies that forged arms and blades, as well as jewelry of great craft and worth. These caves we are wandering through now are but the western part, and mostly mines. But the halls of my fathers are even greater. And they were not a place of emptiness, but a place of power, filled with wonders."  
  
He fell silent. Legolas looked at him in wonder. But it was Sam who spoke up.  
  
"I like that," he said, "and I should like to hear that song you started there, someday, and maybe to learn it. But it makes the darkness seem heavier, thinking of all those lamps. And if your people lived here for so long, why did they leave?"  
  
Gimli shuddered. "Durin's Bane," he whispered, but then he fell silent again, as if the mere mention of that ancient evil could somehow conjure it.  
  
It was Gandalf who answered for him.   
  
"It is told that the Dwarves awoke a great evil under the mountains, one day, and that this evil was too great for them to fight. It drove them out," he said, in a hushed whisper. "What it was, the wise do not know, but it must have been more than just an infestation of Orcs."   
  
He shook his head. "Let's hope that it is not active here any more, and that our presence might go unnoticed."  
  
Legolas cast a look at Gimli, but the Dwarf had fallen silent; after his engaged speech, he would say no more. Pippin and Merry looked fearful, but not very disturbed. Then, he looked at Frodo. The Ring-Bearer was pale, and his glances around spoke of more than just unrest. Legolas met his gaze, and they shared an uneasy look.  
  
Apparently, the Ring-Bearer had felt the power lurking somewhere out there, too. And obviously, he shared Legolas' misgivings of the likelihood that the Fellowship would escape it unawares.  
  
  
___________________ o ________________  
  
  
A few steps behind, at the end of the line, Aragorn stiffened, when Gimli first approached the Elf. He quickened his steps as if to move closer to the two; but a hand on his shoulder restrained him.  
  
"Wait," Boromir whispered, "let him fight his own battles."  
  
Aragorn shook the hand off him and glared at his fellow human.  
  
"Last time I let him fight his own battles, that Dwarf nearly goaded him into killing," he hissed back. "I will not allow..."  
  
Boromir shook his head. "Your Elf is a competent warrior, and skilled with words," he said. "He is more than capable to defend himself, even without killing. And he will never be safe from the Dwarf if he does not earn his respect himself. Trust him!"   
  
Aragorn hesitated. "It is not his _skill_ I do not trust," he muttered. "Nor is _he_ the one who will likely start a confrontation. About that Dwarf, however, I am not so sure."   
  
Boromir shrugged. "Our Dwarf has sworn an oath to you. I think that he has learned his lesson," he said quietly. "Let them come to terms without your interference."  
  
Aragorn said nothing. He watched the exchange a few steps before them intently, ready to intervene if necessary. His brows climbed up when Gimli started singing.  
  
Boromir beside him smirked. "You see?" he asked, "I had a feeling our Dwarf meant to make peace rather than start another fight."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. He said nothing; but he let himself fall back a little, to leave the pair ahead of them some room, and found that Boromir did the same. He was not sure if he liked Boromir's new attitude as Legolas' self-appointed champion; but at least, it was an improvement to his attitude before. As long as it did not hurt Legolas... Still, he kept himself ready to intervene, should it be needed, and kept all his senses attuned to the pair at the head of the line.  
  
He did not notice the soft padded steps that followed far behind them.  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
Even the gloomy words of Gandalf could not silence the Hobbits for long. Merry and Pippin soon regained their curiosity and were now pestering the wizard with questions. (2)  
  
"If Moria was so rich and full of lamps and jewels, do you suppose there are still some of those treasures here?" asked Merry.  
  
At first, he did not get an answer; Gimli remained silent. It was Gandalf who finally replied.  
  
"Treasures? No! Moria has been plundered by Orcs, quite thoroughly. If any of its splendor of old is still here, it is hidden away deep down in the deepest shafts, drowned in water – or in a shadow of fear."  
  
"Then what did the Dwarves came back for?" Pippin asked.  
  
The question earned him a dirty look from the Dwarf, but it was Gandalf who answered again.   
  
Bowing under a low-hanging rock, he stopped beside a stone with visible silver streaks running through it.  
  
"Mithril," he said. "The worth of Moria was not in gold, nor jewels; but mithril!"  
  
He held out his staff and heightened the low glimmer at the top to a bright light. And now, the company could see that the deep chasm opening beside their path went down into fathomless depths, and also continued above them into unimaginable heights. Old ladders, metal chains, cranes and other mining tools, long abandoned, were all around them. On the other side of the chasm, the rock was scattered with shafts and holes, bearing witness of eager, busy mining work that took place here once, but now lying quiet and empty, abandoned.   
  
They all stared. Gandalf let them get a glimpse of the enormity of the abandoned mining site, but then he retrieved his staff and dimmed the light again.  
  
"Mithril!" he said, "Truesilver, it is also called. Everyone wanted it! It can be hammered and formed like copper, and yet it is hard and unbreakable as the hardest steel. The Elves were mad for it; so were the Dwarves and Men. But of all places in the known world, it can be found only here. By now, its worth is nearly invaluable."  
  
He walked on. Silently, the company followed, all caught in their own thoughts. After a moment, Gandalf spoke again.  
  
"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," he said. "I wonder what became of it?"  
  
That remark was enough to raise Gimli from his gloomy mood. "Oh! A corselet of mithril?" he asked, "That was a kingly gift!"  
  
Gandalf chuckled. "Yes," he said. "I never told him, but its value was greater then the value of all the Shire!"  
  
Legolas, walking directly behind him, said nothing. He shuddered. He recalled a certain mithril shirt, of the right size to fit a Hobbit, that had once been in the possession of a certain Elven princeling... but the memories associated with that shirt were not good ones, and he did not care to recall them.   
  
Then he noticed that Frodo fidgeted and looked uncomfortably around him. For a moment, he pondered if the Hobbit perhaps knew more about what became of that mithril shirt. But then, he shoved the question away.  
  
_He did not wish to think about this!_  
  
Silently, he moved on.  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
It was late when the Fellowship finally settled down to rest that night. It was time to do so, too; during the last few hours, the Hobbits had just stumbled forward on tired feet, visibly hard pressed to keep up, and even Legolas had keenly felt the lack of sleep on too many previous nights creeping back into his limbs.   
  
He had no way to judge how long they had been marching. All he knew was that the occasional beams of light they had come across grew less and less bright, and the light they gave to add to the sparse light of the torch and to the wizard's staff grew dim, finally ceasing altogether, until only a sudden gush of fresher air made it palpable that an opening to the outside world was near. These openings themselves grew sparse and few between, as far as he could tell, since now their path from time to time led them through shafts carved deep into the living rock, just to open again into more caves of various sizes quite suddenly. Their path had become harder to follow, being crossed by openings to other tunnels and other ways, and more often than not Gandalf had made a short pause at them to ponder the way they should take. But still the wizard had urged them on relentlessly, and only now he finally relented and bade them to stop and make camp.  
  
"I do not think that we can go on tonight," he stated, "nor do I think we should. We are all exhausted, and all the paths leading from here are tricky. Tomorrow, we must take special care to find the right passage, the one that will lead us to the great hall at the upper level, close to the Eastern Gate. We will do better if we are well-rested, and this place looks as good as any to do so."  
  
Nobody protested. The whole company was quite ready to follow his counsel.  
  
Indeed, the place Gandalf had chosen was better than many others they had passed so far: it was a relatively wide platform in one of the caves, protected at three sides by walls and with only two paths leading away, both of them easily defended if it came to that. The chasm at the third side was not as deep, only some fifteen feet, and the whole cave not very high. And it was dry and had a relatively level ground. With any luck they could hope for an undisturbed night.  
  
Following long-trained habit, Legolas returned to the side of his master for the night and started to unroll his bedroll beside the one of Aragorn. But a light touch on his arm stopped him. Looking up, he met Aragorn's meaningful gaze.  
  
Wordlessly, Aragorn gave him a short nod in the direction of Boromir.  
  
Legolas froze, then he bowed his head. He had nearly forgotten about Aragorn's command the previous night to seek out Boromir again, and somehow he had hoped that maybe the confrontation between Boromir and Aragorn this morning would have changed his master's mind.   
  
Apparently, it had not. Aragorn insisted.  
  
Giving his master an obedient bow, Legolas took his blanket and pack and made his way over to the man of Gondor.  
  
Boromir looked up as Legolas approached him and bowed before him.   
  
"My Lord Boromir," the Elf said quietly, "may I ask to be allowed to keep you company, tonight?"  
  
Boromir studied him for a moment. The Elf looked pale, and somewhat tired. Other than that, he could not read his polite expression.  
  
"I am not your lord, Legolas," he reminded gently, "but of course you may! I will keep you company with pleasure!"  
  
He patted the blanket he sat on invitingly.   
  
Giving him another polite bow, Legolas spread his blanket beside him and settled down.  
  
Shrugging out of his harness with his quiver and his knives, placing it carefully beside his pack, he said quietly:  
  
"Actually, ...Master Boromir, I had hoped to ask for your company, tonight, in... private."  
  
Boromir looked at him, critically. Then he asked, equally quietly: "Is this your own, free will?"  
  
Legolas avoided his gaze. He did not speak, just nodded.  
  
Boromir narrowed his eyes. "Look at me!" he commanded, and startled, the Elf obeyed. Boromir cocked his head.  
  
Quietly and determinedly, he repeated his question. "It is truly your wish to be with me, tonight, or has your master commanded you to seek me out?"  
  
Legolas swallowed. For a moment, he could not answer, and his eyes flickered a little. Then he carefully began: "I -" - but he got no further.   
  
Boromir had seen enough. He cut him off with a brusque gesture. Throwing an angry glare in the direction of Aragorn, he growled: "That fiend! Let me take care of this! I swear - "  
  
Quickly, Legolas placed a hand on his arm and shook his head.  
  
"Boromir! Please!" he implored intently, "we have discussed this already! You said that I could come to you at need, and as a friend! Please! It is as a friend that I now come to you! Will you deny me?"  
  
He spoke lowly, quietly, below the hearing of the majority of the Fellowship; and indeed, in the familiar bustle of spreading out blankets, unpacking packs and preparing the meal, the content of their conversation had so far apparently gone unnoticed. That opportunity could be over any time, though.  
  
Boromir shot the Elf a skeptical glance. He could see that the Elven slave was mortified and clearly feared another scene about his status and situation in front of the whole Fellowship.   
  
Reluctantly, the man of Gondor nodded and gave in, unwilling to embarrass him even more.  
  
"All right, if you are sure," he muttered quietly. "But I swear this master of yours deserves a knock or two around the head. One of these days, he will find my good, glowed fist in his face, if he does not mend his ways very soon."  
  
Legolas said nothing. After a moment, he began tiredly and resignedly: "Boromir -"  
  
But Boromir just shook his head. He placed a gentle hand on the Elf's shoulder.  
  
"Leave it," he said gently. "I know you are loyal to him, and maybe he deserves it, although I surely cannot see why. But for now it does not matter. I do not ask you should agree with me. It is just hard to see what he still puts you through."  
  
Legolas said nothing. A treacherous, rebellious little part of his mind whispered: 'You have no idea!' - but he banished that thought. Aloud, he said tiredly: "He is my master. And I told you already that he has his reasons, and they are sound."  
  
Boromir just made a face. Then he sighed.  
  
After a moment, he said quietly: "I think we shall wait until after the meal, when everyone has settled down to sleep. Then we can go and find a spot of privacy. It will be my pleasure and my honor to serve your needs tonight, and I do hope I can make sure you will not have cause to regret it. I would just wish -" he trailed off.   
  
Legolas took a deep breath. He bowed his had to the Gondorian once more and said sincerely and earnestly: "Thank you, Boromir. You are very generous."  
  
Boromir just shook his head again. Nevertheless, he finally replied: "You are welcome, Master Elf," and he meant it.  
  
Then he added: "I do not think we need to go far; I believe I recall a good place around the bend and some fifty paces back on the path we came. I wondered why Gandalf did not call for a halt there, earlier this night."  
  
This time, the Elven slave at his side gave him a smile.  
  
"You mean that Dwarven storeroom we passed, or whatever they once used it for?" he asked. "Well, you men would have had a hard time to stand up straight and swing your sword, at need." He sent an rather amused look to the Dwarf and the Hobbits.   
  
"For our other companions, though, that place might have been perfect."  
  
Boromir gave him a sly look. He accepted the invitation to change the topic and the mood. "You could not have stood up straight there, either," he reminded.  
  
The Elf grinned back at him.  
  
"Ah, but, my friend, you forget that I am an archer. I do not need to stand to work my craft. Nor does the wizard. You men, though..."  
  
Boromir sighed and mock-scowled. Giving up, he decided to just play along.  
  
_He would never understand this Elf!_  
  
  
____________ o ___________  
  
  
It was about an hour later, when they finally stole out of the camp. Pippin, who had the first watch this night, shot Legolas an alarmed and questioning look, when they passed him, but the Elf replied to his unvoiced question with a quick, reassuring shake of his head and placed a finger on his lips, in a mute pleading to keep silent. The Hobbit acquiesced. Still, he looked skeptical and dismayed, and shot a baleful glare at Boromir. Legolas sighed inwardly. He supposed he would have to speak with the Hobbit to protect Boromir from his wrath during the next few days; but he still was grateful for the unspoken support.   
  
He had shrugged back into his harness and his pack, which held his blanket again, and taken the torch, and when they left the range of the low, but steady glimmer of the wizard's staff, the flickering light of the flame cast eerie shadows all around. Legolas soon handed the torch to Boromir and let him take the lead. His keen ears had not missed the nearly inaudible steps that followed them at a respectful distance, nor did his nose miss the faint wisp of pipe-weed of Aragorn's familiar brand. The Hobbits preferred another brand of the weed, the best one of the Shire, as they claimed; and the Dwarf could never have moved as quietly, even if he had tried. There could be no doubt who it was who followed them. Apparently, his master had decided to ensure their safety, tonight, by keeping watch while they were necessarily distracted.  
  
Legolas was not sure if he felt grateful about this. However, he was very sure that the Gondorian, should he discover they were not alone, would hardly like it. He just hoped the man of Gondor would remain oblivious.   
  
They need not go far. The place Boromir had mentioned was around a bend and through a tunnel along the path they had come earlier in the evening, and it might indeed once have been a storeroom, or maybe a sleeping shelter for the Dwarven miners. It was a space carved into the living rock, just at the mouth of the tunnel, twice as deep as a man stood high, and three times as long; but the roof was too low for a man to stand without a crouch. However, what they planned for tonight would not require them to remain standing for long.  
  
Along the path, the space had once been closed by a wall, which had been either smashed by an attack, or by an earthquake; most of the wall had long since crumbled to dust. One third remained. Legolas dropped his pack and took the torch from the Adan; then he secured it with some stones at the wall closest to the tunnel. His and Boromir's shadows would be on the other side of the light, not easily seen on the outside. Aragorn might see if there was any enemy nearing their hiding place along the path, but he would not have the benefit of watching what they were about to do tonight. Legolas felt that he owed Boromir as much, in thanks for the Gondorian's generosity.  
  
If his master wished to make him suffer for this, later, then so be it.  
  
Finally, Legolas spread his blanket on the ground in the protected space, shrugged out of his harness and placed his weapons within easy reach. Kneeling down, he waited mutely for the Adan.  
  
He did not wait for long.   
  
Boromir followed Legolas' example and spread his own blanket beside that of the Elf. Carefully, he got rid of his sword-belt, setting it beside Legolas' quiver and bow, and then knelt down before him. He proceeded to shed his vambraces. Soon enough, he felt the helpful hands of his companion, working to free him of his heavy leather jerkin. He enjoyed the assistance, but when the Elf proceeded to fold the jerkin and place it and the vambraces on a tidy pile, he turned to him and began to open the laces of Legolas' tunic.   
  
Legolas jerked a little.  
  
"There is no need for you to do that, My Lord, I can..." he began, but Boromir sighed and shook his head.   
  
Placing a gentle finger on the Elf's lips, he reminded: "I am not your lord, Legolas, remember? And where I come from, turnabout is fair play! I usually help my lovers as much as they help me!"  
  
Carefully, but gently, he opened the laces of the leather tunic, then those of the vambraces the archer still wore; then he helped his companion to shed both and placed them on a pile beside the one with his own clothes. Then he let Legolas help him out of his undershirt, and reciprocated to do the same for his companion.  
  
When the luminous skin of the Elf was finally revealed, he took in a deep breath.  
  
"You really glow in the dark!"   
  
Legolas had worked hard not to let Boromir see the tension he felt, despite the Adan's gentleness and generosity; a tension that sat in his gut like an icy lump. But at this remark, he almost had to laugh.  
  
"We are nearly four weeks on our way, and two days in these mines, and this is the first time you noticed?" he asked.  
  
The man cocked his head. "It is the first time I have seen your naked skin revealed to me, here," he claimed.  
  
Legolas gave him a skeptical look. "You have seen me naked, before," he reminded. "At least twice."  
  
A shadow flitted over Boromir's face, but just briefly. He looked a little uncomfortable, and a little sheepish.  
  
"I was distracted, then," he admitted.  
  
Legolas almost snorted. "That I may believe!" he said.  
  
Boromir carefully reached out a hand. "May I – may I touch you?" he asked.  
  
Legolas held his breath. _The Gondorian asked for permission?_ He suppressed the urge to bite his lips and nodded. Some of the tension returned.  
  
Boromir's hand closed the distance. Reverently, he stroke along the lithe torso of the Elf.   
  
Legolas shivered a little under the gentle touch, but to his surprise not with revulsion. Indeed, the man's fingers were warm, and callused, and made his skin tingle under the caress. His breath hitched.   
  
Boromir did not seem to notice.  
  
"You know," the Adan said admiringly, while he carefully followed the lines of the Elf's body, "I almost think we would not have needed to take that torch to get here. We could just have followed your glow."  
  
Legolas could not help himself. He laughed.  
  
"Believe me, you would not get far, just following my glow," he replied. As silly as the little jest had been, he was grateful for the attempt to lighten the mood. He felt another part of the tension leave his body.  
  
He took a deep breath. Carefully, he took the hand caressing him and brought it to his lips. He kissed the palm and fingers, then he let it go and reached out himself. "May I - ?" he asked.  
  
Boromir nodded. "Fair play, remember?" he said. "Of course you may!"  
  
Fascinated, Legolas began his own exploration of the Adan's body.  
  
It was not the first time he had seen Boromir naked; the Gondorian washed himself, after all, as regularly as Aragorn. But the two times when Boromir had taken him before, the human had not completely undressed for him, but had kept his undershirt. This was the first time Legolas saw the Adan's naked skin revealed for him alone, and the idea felt strange and exciting in his mind. Even Aragorn did not always undress to take his slave; he rarely did so when they were out in the wilds, which was wisdom at times when at least one of them had to stay ready to fight at a moment's notice; but he did not even always undress to make love – or play his games - when they both were safe somewhere in the Ranger's camp or at an inn. Having Legolas vulnerable and naked while he himself stayed at least partly clothed added spice to his games and heightened his sense of power. Only Halbarad always undressed for him...  
  
Legolas banished that train of thought and concentrated on his partner.  
  
Hesitantly at first, then bolder, his hands followed the line of the broad shoulders, a little broader than those of Aragorn; stroked along the well-build muscles under tight, velvet skin, down to the chest, over the breast-bone and downwards along the slight fur to the muscled breast. His exploring fingers found the small, brown nipples, teasing a little, and he smiled at the quick intake of breath that provoked, feeling the nubs harden under his attentions; then his hands wandered deeper, along the rib-cage, to the tight stomach...  
  
Boromir's breath hitched, and got faster. The man's lips were slightly open, and his face was awash in wonder. His skin gleamed golden in the torchlight, and Legolas' exploring fingers felt the scars on the body which the light would not reveal. His breath caught. The man kneeling before him, as different to Aragorn as he was, was beautiful, in his own way.  
  
Confused and shocked, Legolas frowned for a moment.   
  
_Why would he think that?_  
  
The ceasing of his caress elicited a little moan of protest. Then the man's hands came up again. They stopped inches from his body, and Boromir gave him a questioning look. With baited breath, he nodded.  
  
Then Boromir began reciprocating his caresses in earnest, and Legolas' breath hitched again.   
  
The hands caressing him felt wonderful on his skin, gentle, clever, careful, exploring and finding all the right places, stroking, teasing, setting him aflame. Obviously, the man had studied him well the two times they had been together, and knew where to touch and where to caress. His hands followed the lines of Legolas' torso like a sculptor, slowly wandering up, pausing briefly at the chest to tease the little nubs that rested there, then roaming up to his shoulders, to his neck, finally his ears...   
  
Legolas gasped. The careful, clever caress sent hot jolts through him, as did Boromir's face. The man wore an expression of complete concentration, almost dedication, that Legolas had so far only known from Estel, in his better moments. His confusion mounted. But at the same time, the gentle attentions raised his arousal, drove him ever higher.  
  
Finally, Boromir leaned forward and stopped just moments from his lips.  
  
"May I kiss you?"the man whispered.  
  
Legolas nodded.  
  
The kiss was sweet, and hot, and sent fire through his veins. Legolas felt himself harden, and for a moment, panic coursed through him.   
  
_This was not Estel! How -_  
  
Then Boromir renewed the kiss, at the same time stroking along Legolas' ear, and all thoughts were swept away.  
  
Legolas gave a little moan of protest when the kiss ended, but allowed himself willingly to be pushed down on the blanket by his partner. Clever hands fumbled with the laces of his leggings, and he hurried to help. He moaned again when the laces gave way and the cloth was pushed down, and lifted his pelvis to help. Then he moaned for a third time when a hot mouth closed over his straining member and began to suckle and caress. His hands buried in the man's hair, and his confusion rushed back again.   
  
_Estel did not like that!_  
  
But this was not Estel, and there was no protest. Instead the man making love to him intensified his efforts.  
  
Legolas' confusion mounted, mixing with the haze of arousal and excitement coursing through his body.   
  
_This was not Estel! Then why did he feel such pleasure, such desire? Why--_  
  
Hands roamed over his stomach, his sides, up to his chest. Callused thumbs found his nipples, caressing, teasing, making him gasp. The hot cavern engulfing his member left him for a moment, and he moaned in protest.   
  
Looking up, he found Boromir gazing down at him, eyes shining with admiration.  
  
"Valar, but you are beautiful!" the man breathed. "Let go, now! Come for me, Master Elf!"  
  
It was the tone, full of desire and invitation, and the expression of Boromir's eyes, shining with passion. It drove Legolas right over the edge. He spilled himself, gasping, all thoughts and all confusion swept away by one moment of intense pleasure. Strong hands held him, grounded him, while he rode the waves. He did not know if he had uttered a name. It didn't matter.  
  
When he finally slowly found his breath again, he opened his eyes – he had not even noticed he had closed them – to the gaze of Boromir's bright, shining eyes.   
  
"You are beautiful," Boromir said again in a hoarse whisper. "Let me serve you now!"  
  
And he gently pulled Legolas up and guided him around until he had him kneeling, his back to Boromir, slightly leaning forward, ready to be taken. Then, Boromir hesitated for a moment.  
  
"Do you have some oil?" he asked, breathless.  
  
Legolas just nodded. He reached for his pack and found the little vial he had placed strategically on top of his other gear. Handing it back to Boromir, he placed himself on all fours, shivering in anticipation. He heard the slight rustle as the man freed his erection, uncorked the bottle and prepared himself.  
  
His confusion returned and intensified.  
  
_He had been sent to do this by Estel, against his own wish and desire. He was not yet in need. There was no reason why he should welcome the attention of any other.  
  
Why then did he feel that much anticipation, that much pleasure? Why was he eager for the man kneeling behind him, and did not fear the moment he would be invaded by the other's flesh?_  
  
Closing his eyes again, he tried to conjure Estel's face, tried to imagine that the hands now stroking gently and hesitantly over his buttocks were Estel's, that it were Estel's clever fingers stroking over his cleft, teasing his entrance...  
  
It didn't work.  
  
All he could see before him were Boromir's shining eyes, his gentle face, the respectful way he had asked for Legolas' invitation and welcome before he touched him.  
  
He was distracted from his train of thoughts by Boromir's hoarse question: "Ready?"  
  
Legolas just nodded.  
  
The fingers entered his passage, gently preparing, teasing, stretching; then the fingers left again and he felt his own breathing quickening in anticipation. Finally, he felt the thick, blunt flesh of Boromir's cock pierce him, entering his body inch by inch.  
  
Legolas breathed hard. He could not help tensing up for a moment; but the man holding him with strong, yet gentle hands stopped and waited until his body adjusted. Then, Boromir slowly pushed deeper, finally hitting his sweet spot, and all thoughts were driven from Legolas' mind again.  
  
It did not take long. Boromir set a rhythm, slow at first, then faster, and took care to adjust his own angle so that he would give the most possible pleasure to his partner; and when he finally reached his peak, spilling himself within his partner's body, he took Legolas with him.  
  
The new climax took Legolas like a wave, and his gasp sounded suspiciously like a sob. He was not sure if he had said a name, and if he had, he was not sure if that name had belonged to Boromir or to his master. If he had whispered Estel's name again, Boromir gave no sign that he had noticed.   
  
The man withdrew and slumped against Legolas for a moment, hugging him hard. Then he guided the Elf around and stole a kiss.  
  
"Thank you, beautiful one," he said, "you have been wonderful!"  
  
Legolas didn't answer. He breathed hard, holding back a sob. Boromir kissed his cheek.  
  
"Do you think we may rest a while?" he added.  
  
Legolas looked at him. The Adan seemed exhausted.  
  
"Go ahead," he said, "I shall keep watch."  
  
For a moment, he thought the man would protest, but then Boromir just nodded and laid down. Legolas took Boromir's blanket and spread it over him. Moments later, the man was already asleep.  
  
Legolas sat beside him. He stared blindly into the flickering torchlight, casting eerie shadows on the wall of the cave. From time to time, his eyes wandered down to the sleeping man lying beside him.  
  
Just once, his eyes flicked over to the mouth of the tunnel where he assumed his master waited.  
  
_Why was it that the one he loved, the one who owned his heart, could not give him **this** , the gentleness and pleasure he had shared this night, while the one who **could** give him what he craved most from his beloved was just a friendly stranger?_  
  
Bitterly and silently, Legolas kept watch over his sleeping partner.  
  
  
______________ o ________________  
  
  
When Boromir woke, the light of the torch was dim, nearly burned down. They would need to replace the fuel, soon. He groaned a little and sat up. Legolas beside him was already dressed, wearing his weapons, and had packed his gear. Now he reached for Boromir's shirt and held it out to him.  
  
"It is late," the Elf said tersely. "We should return to the camp."  
  
Boromir nodded. He took the shirt and slipped into it, gladly accepting the help of Legolas' nimble fingers. He could feel the Elf's hands slightly trembling.   
  
He stopped and shot his companion a questioning look.  
  
"You seem disturbed," he observed quietly. "What is it?"  
  
Legolas just shook his head. "It is nothing," he said, "I am fine."  
  
But he avoided Boromir's eyes, and his face seemed drawn.  
  
Boromir studied him for a moment, puzzled. _Legolas had not seemed unwilling, earlier tonight, nor even unhappy. Why -_  
  
Then, suddenly, understanding dawned.  
  
For a moment, irritation grabbed Boromir, and he wanted to snap at the Elf, and at his stupid master. But he fought it down.  
  
He sighed.  
  
Reaching out, he placed a gentle hand on the Elf's arm.  
  
"Look," he said, "there is no need for you to feel guilty or to be concerned. We did nothing wrong."  
  
Startled and caught, Legolas looked at him.  
  
Boromir returned his gaze earnestly and gently.  
  
"You came to me as a friend. What we did tonight was given in friendship, from one friend to another. And you need not fear your master being upset. It was him who sent you to seek me out. You need not fear that you betrayed him. Nor did you betray me."  
  
Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving, then he uttered what sounded like a sob and drew Boromir into a fierce embrace. Boromir returned the hug, astonished.  
  
After a moment, Legolas drew back. He took the face of the man into his hands and kissed him.  
  
"Thank you, Boromir," he said, seriously and earnestly, "thank you!"  
  
Boromir traced his cheek.  
  
"You are welcome," he assured his partner, "Always. Whenever you need me or wish to seek me out. And I am the one who has to thank you for tonight."  
  
Legolas closed his eyes and nodded. "You are a good friend, Boromir," he said. "Thank you again."  
  
Then he opened his eyes anew and resumed his task, helping Boromir into his clothes.  
  
"We must go back," he explained, "the watch will change, soon."  
  
But this time he seemed more relaxed. Boromir accepted his assistance gladly.  
  
When they returned on their way, there was no sign that anyone beside them had been there, or had followed them that night, and when they returned to the camp, Legolas could see Aragorn lying on his blanket, apparently sleeping. But he knew the breathing of his master, and Aragorn's breath came too regularly and too slow. Legolas was sure he was awake. He just hoped Boromir would not notice.  
  
He did not go to settle down beside his master. Instead, he spread his blanket at the side of Boromir. He deemed he owed the man of Gondor at least as much for his generosity tonight.  
  
But long after Boromir had drifted off to sleep, Legolas lay awake.   
  
He was sure he would not find any more rest, this night.  
  
  
_________________ o _______________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:   
  
(1) This sentence, slightly adapted, as well as the first two verses of Gimli's song, are directly lifted from the book LOTR, 1954, 1995, p. 307f; originally, though, Gimli is speaking to Sam, there, and Gandalf does not interrupt him. Gimli's speech I give here is inspired by that song; and Sam's reply is adapted from the replies he made to the song.   
  
(2) This whole passage is a close adaptation of a similar exchange in the book LOTR, 1954, 1995, pp. 307 ff., (there mainly happening between Gandalf and Sam), and Peter Jackson's movie FOTR, Extended Edition, of the same scene in Moria. Please look up the two original sources to see the differences, because I mixed book and movie elements of the scenes, and changed the sentences to meet my purposes.


	48. Shadow and Flame

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: <http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue>  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  


Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful and encouraging **Namarie!** Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.   
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **Special warning for this chapter** : None. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift some dialog from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of The Ring" (Extended Edition), again. Lifted dialog will be marked like this*. Please bear with me!   
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  


**XXXXVI. Shadow and Flame**  
  
  
Legolas adjusted his pack and strained up to help Pippin climb the steep path at the place where several stairs had crumbled. He managed a smile back at the Hobbit in acknowledgment of Pippin's whispered thanks, then he stooped to grab for Sam. Why the wizard insisted that they had to take this path, instead of any other, he had no idea. Maybe, a long time ago, the stairs hewn into the rock had been a comfortable climb and secure to walk on, but long since, they had suffered from falling rocks that left them shattered and crumpled at some places, with wide gaps to brave or – as it was here – with just the naked remaining rock left for as far as a man could reach. Too smooth for a Hobbit to climb, and too high for the Halflings to reach beyond the missing steps. And yet, Gandalf insisted that they take this path, and that the greater folk should help the little ones along. So, Legolas had helped Frodo, Merry and Pippin to climb up, and now readied himself to assist Sam in the same way. Only Gimli, the Dwarf, had outright refused any help and climbed the gap with astonishing nimbleness. Legolas supposed that his people were truly at home here in the heart of the living stone.   
  
Legolas shivered. The exhaustion and lack of sleep had long caught up with him, and he felt the tiredness in his very bones. It did not help that his mind was in confusion, and that he could feel the palpable tension among the fellowship, between the Hobbits and the men, between Aragorn and Boromir, and, not the least, between himself and his master.  
  
Aragorn did not talk to him. He had not spoken to him all day and had even avoided his gaze most of the time. Now and then, Legolas got a glimpse of his drawn face, his jerky movements, betraying his lack of sleep. But most of the time, the Ranger kept to himself, and to the back of the company, sharing the rear-guard with Boromir, as in the days before. Legolas was glad of it. Early in the morning, when the company set out, he had noticed his master's brooding mood, and had resolved to walk at the head of the line again, in the company of the wizard and the Dwarf. And yet. During the day, he had felt more than once his master's gaze on him. But so far, Aragorn had not spoken to him all day, nor had he sought him out or called him to his side. It made Legolas uneasy. _And yet, he had done nothing wrong! He had done only what his master had commanded him to do..._  
  
The Hobbits had picked up on his disturbed mood and had shielded him firmly from the two men of the group. Once, during the midday meal, when the whole company gulped down a handful of dried fruit and cram, Pippin had taken Legolas aside.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Legolas had nodded and assured the concerned Halfling that he was well, that the two men had done nothing to hurt him and there was no need to be concerned. It has taken some time before Pippin was satisfied, and Legolas was not entirely sure he had convinced him. But thankfully, afterwards, the four Halflings had let him be, except they had still firmly placed themselves between him and the two men. Apparently, Pippin and his cousins did believe him, and at least they respected his privacy.  
  
Except he was not all right. His mind was in turmoil, and even the thought that he had been ordered by Aragorn himself to seek out Boromir did nothing to soothe it.  
  
Again and again, the memories of last night kept creeping up on him, filling his waking thoughts. _Boromir's smiling eyes, his admiration, his gentle hands... the smooth, well-formed body under his fingers... the voice of the Gondorian, asking his permission, soothing his guilt..._ again and again, as much as he tried to banish the memories, they kept creeping in, filling him with warmth, but at the same time adding to his inner turmoil.   
  
_He belonged to Estel! He was the property of Aragorn, he was not supposed to desire or even to think of another!_ And yet, Aragorn himself had sent him to the man of Gondor. Still...   
  
_But he did not love the man of Gondor. He did not desire him. It was Estel who still owned his heart._ And yet, whenever he tried to picture Estel, in his better moments, the two of them not playing games but making love, all he could see was Aragorn's desire when he promised him a night full of cruel games, his harsh voice, commanding him to kneel, or to be silent, his hands meeting out another punishment... he tried to banish these thoughts, to cast them away and concentrate on their path, but they came back.   
  
He tried to concentrate on better memories. On Estel, taking him to see his home again, on Aragorn's concern, his tenderness... It didn't work. Legolas cast a glare or two in the direction of Frodo. He suspected that the burden the innocent Hobbit wore was responsible for his inability to calm his thoughts, but be that as it may, it didn't help. He seemed incapable to calm his mind. It was maddening. The grief and guilt threatened to smother his breath, and nearly made him scream.   
  
_But Aragorn himself had ordered him to seek out the man of Gondor..._  
  
Shivering, Legolas tried once more to concentrate on the task at hand. Sam was heavier than the other Hobbits, and the pack he wore – with all their cookware the Halfling had rescued from the pack of Bill the pony – was unbalanced. The Hobbit had a hard time to reach the helping hands of the Dwarf above, even with Legolas' assistance. Then the pack suddenly tore open, pans and cauldrons tumbling out. Suddenly there were strong, nimble hands, catching the falling cookware, securing the torn pack, and together, they managed pushing the Hobbit up to the other side of the stairs, where Gimli caught him. Merry bowed down and helped to keep the pack in place, and with his and Pippin's assistance, Sam managed to free himself of the torn bundle and mend the gap as best as possible with spare cloth and some straps. He would have to sew it in the evening.  
  
Legolas turned to the man beside him and looked into the face of his master.   
  
He started. Then he checked his own reaction and gave Aragorn a respectful nod. The urge to speak, to beg for a word, even for a gesture was nearly overwhelming, but he quelled it. It was not his place...  
  
Aragorn gave him a curt nod, but avoided his eyes. Then he looked around to Boromir, who stared back into the darkness of the cave behind them with intense concentration.   
  
Legolas followed his gaze – and thought he saw a movement, faint in the dark, but too big to belong to a mere rat; he also thought he heard a faint rustle. All turmoil driven from his mind, he reached for his bow.  
  
A hand on his arm stopped him.  
  
"Leave it," his master whispered. "It's Gollum. He has followed us all day. He is no danger, though, and Boromir and I keep watch on him. Don't alert the others."  
  
Legolas looked at him, a little startled. These were more words than he had heard from Aragorn all day! And yet...  
  
He gave his master an obedient nod, but could not help himself. _"Estel -"_  
  
Aragorn silenced him with a curt shake of his head. "Not now, Little Leaf," he said hoarsely.  
  
Legolas caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were dark, and in turmoil, looking tired and haunted.   
  
But quickly Aragorn looked away again and gave his slave a nod to follow the others, up the missing steps. Legolas hesitated, but Aragorn merely shook his head and impatiently repeated his mute command.  
  
Wordlessly, Legolas obeyed. But the grief inside his chest threatened to drown him.  
  
_If only there would be a way around that spell, around the need to feed it... if only Aragorn would not need to hurt him to keep him alive..._  
  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
  
Gandalf looked up when Legolas approached him. The rest of the Fellowship had settled down to sleep. The wizard had volunteered to take the first watch again. He had outright refused the offers of the men or the Elf to take a watch tonight, and given the other two to Frodo and Gimli.  
  
So, he was mildly astonished to see the determined face of the Elf. "Mithrandir, I would ask for some of your time, if you would, please," the Elven slave said politely.  
  
Gandalf nodded invitingly. Legolas sat down.  
  
"I would ask you to try breaking the spell," he began in a quiet voice.  
  
Gandalf looked at him with curiosity. "Right now?" he asked. "I thought we had agreed to wait until we left Lothlorien." He seized the Elven slave up with a keen gaze. "I don't think..."  
  
Legolas looked down. "I would ask you to try it now," he said. "I am aware that it might cause some trouble when we reach the Golden Wood, if you have success, but..." he blushed and fell silent.  
  
Gandalf drew his brows together. "Legolas," he began testily, "you know I promised to try this, to you, and also to your master; but I would rather do so once we have left the Golden Wood behind. I do not think it wise..."  
  
Legolas looked up at him, imploringly. His gaze was haunted. "Please!" he said, "I need you to try, now! I..."  
  
Suddenly, there was a quiet tread behind him, and Legolas fell silent. He looked startled.  
  
"Do it," Aragorn said quietly. "If there is a possibility to break the spell, then do it now."  
  
Legolas turned around to him, baffled. "Estel!" he breathed.  
  
But Gandalf stared at the Ranger with narrowed eyes. "Before we reach Lothlorien, son of Arathorn?" he asked. "Are you sure? Even should I be successful, Galadriel will not like that. What if they claim you have overstepped your rights in regard to a Mirkwood hostage, and demand Legolas back from you?"  
  
Aragorn shrugged.  
  
"Legolas is not just a hostage in my care," he said evenly. "He is, by law of Rivendell, my slave, my sole property, without conditions or reserve. He was given to me as a gift, without stipulations. If I decide I want him freed of the spell, given the spell can be broken, then that is my decision alone. It will not change his status in regard to me."  
  
His hand closed possessively over the shoulder of his slave. "They cannot claim him back."  
  
Legolas flinched. Gandalf shot Aragorn a sharp look.  
  
"So you say, son of Arathorn, that even if he was freed from the curse, Legolas would remain your slave?" he asked.  
  
Aragorn shrugged. He held Gandalf's gaze without flinching. "Yes," he said grimly, "as long as it is necessary to protect him."  
  
Legolas shivered. Gandalf glared at the Dúnadan. But Aragorn did not relent. He held the gaze of the Istar evenly.  
  
Finally, the wizard pursed his lips.  
  
"Very well," he said, "I shall try it then. But I cannot work on the spell with you hovering here." He gave the Dúnadan an imperious nod. "Leave us alone! At least for the moment!"  
  
Aragorn bowed to him. "I will take over your watch," he offered. "I shall be close."  
  
And with that, he gave the shoulder of his slave a last, reassuring squeeze and turned around. He went over to the other side of the camp and took his post, staring out into the darkness of the cave, his back to them.   
  
Gandalf's eyes followed him for a moment, then he turned his attention back to Legolas.   
  
"Very well," he said, still with some irritation. "Let us begin. Calm your mind. I wish you to concentrate on me and nothing else."  
  
Legolas swallowed and nodded obediently. He did his best to calm himself, to clear his mind of thoughts, concentrate on the voice of the wizard...   
  
He could practically feel the power build in the deceptive form of the old man before him, could feel the mind of the wizard enter his own and explore the bonds that held him... could feel the will seeking his release...  
  
Quite suddenly, his perception shifted, and he could see Gandalf in the way he normally ignored, the way of the other world, beyond the veils of the flesh. 

  
_The Istar seemed like a beacon of light, bright, sharp, only thinly veiled by the deceptive appearance of his chosen form. And close to the middle of that form, where the chest would be, he could see a red fire, like a ring, powerful and yet not a part of the other light. It gleamed with a power of its own, but somehow that power seemed bound, dangerous, not entirely clean... It seemed ruddy, out of place...  
  
Legolas shuddered. He felt the will of the Istar coil and tighten. Then Gandalf spoke, at the same time in the outer world and directly in his mind: "I release you from this spell!"  
  
The brightness flared, but at the same time, there was another light to counter it. Blue, icy light flared in the back of Legolas' mind, numbing, freezing, fighting back. He gasped. The coldness stole his breath, closed around his heart, pressed his chest together... He stifled a scream, and felt the power of the wizard surge against him. The blue light flared back, not giving ground. The bright light flared brighter...  
  
**... and suddenly, there was another power there. Dark, ancient, evil, ruddy and fiery, drawing closer. Searching...**_  


With a start, Gandalf released him, and Legolas was thrown out of the trance back to the physical world. They sat opposite each other, staring at each other, startled.   
  
The Elf found his voice. "Gandalf! What was that?"  
  
The old wizard stared back at him, nearly as shocked as he was. "I am not sure," he said, "I am not..." but he fell silent, and he looked as shaken as Legolas felt himself.  
  
"Do you think it has noticed us? Should we move on?" Legolas asked.  
  
Gandalf hesitated. For a moment, he looked as if he was listening, but then he shook his head. "I cannot feel it anymore. It has definitely felt our power, and it is awake now; but I do not think that it has found us yet."  
  
He shook his head. "Fool that I am! I knew it would be dangerous to try this here, and yet I let myself be talked into it! I am clearly losing my mind in my old age!"  
  
Legolas shuddered. "It was my fault, Mithrandir," he said. "If I had just waited..."  
  
The wizard glared at him. Impatiently, he said: "Nonsense! Do I look as if I had been forced by you to try this here, by a drawn blade? No! It is true that the demand was foolish; but who is the greater fool, the fool that asks a foolish thing, or the wise who follows the demand although he should know better? No. The fault was mine!"  
  
Then he shook his head again and made a face.  
  
"Anyway, that can't be helped, now. We cannot go on, tonight; the Hobbits are exhausted, and so are the men. And so are you, my dear Elf – no, do not deny it! I have watched you these last few days, and I doubt you have found as much rest as you needed!"  
  
Legolas bowed his head. He did not answer.  
  
Gandalf nodded grimly. "We must risk waiting for the morrow and have an early start, and hope that whatever evil power haunts our steps will not find us before we leave these mines!"  
  
Legolas was pale.  
  
"If I had been more patient..."   
  
Gandalf glared at him.  
  
"No use to mourn that, now. The deed is done! But we shall not try this again until we have brought some distance between us and this place, and until we have safely left Lothlorien!"  
  
Legolas looked at him.  
  
"So you _will_ try again?" he asked.  
  
Gandalf made a face. "Of course! Once we have left the Golden Wood and are safely away from the close range of Dol Guldur as well. But, Legolas, you need to understand that even then, I am not sure at all that I can break this spell. Clearly it has been cast with the help of one of the Great Rings. It may well be that the only way to break the spell is to destroy its source."  
  
"The One Ring?"  
  
Gandalf looked troubled. "Maybe. I do not know if that alone will suffice. It may be that along with the One, the Three will have to be destroyed, too."  
  
But he looked troubled by that thought, and Legolas could well understand why. _Never would Elrond agree to destroy the ring which was his source of power!_ Nor would the owners of the other two Elven rings likely agree to this plan, and Legolas thought he could guess who the keeper of at least one of the others was. _The Lady of the Golden Wood was feared for her power not only in the physical world..._  
  
Gandalf sighed.   
  
"No use to speculate about that, now. Off you go! Find some sleep. You are no use to us dead on your feet. And release that Ranger of his self-appointed watch! The two of you need your rest as badly as any of us!"  
  
He made a shooing gesture, then busied himself with his pack, searching for his pipe.  
  
Legolas bowed. He rose and made his way over to his master.  
  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
  
Aragorn sat, his back to the sleeping Fellowship, staring out into the Darkness of the cave. Legolas approached him with trepidation.   
  
"My Lord..."He swallowed. "My Lord, Gandalf sends me to release you. He says he takes the remaining watch over again, beginning now."   
  
Aragorn looked up at him. "In a moment, Little Leaf," he said. He narrowed his eyes. With a quick gesture, he invited his Elf to sit down beside him. Mutely, Legolas obeyed.  
  
Quietly, his master asked: "Did it work?"  
  
Legolas looked down. He shook his head.  
  
"No, My Lord, it did not work. We had to stop. Worse..." he trailed off, his mouth dry. How to tell Aragorn that his foolish request had put the Fellowship in danger?  
  
"There was... an evil presence. It stirred. I fear..."  
  
Aragorn made a face. He nodded.  
  
"I know. I felt it, too," he said. "We had better make haste tomorrow and do our best to leave these mines as fast as we can."  
  
Legolas swallowed. "I am sorry, My Lord!" he said. "I brought danger down on us. I..."  
  
He trailed off. Aragorn's hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing, then moving on to the back of his head, caressing his hair.  
  
"Nonsense, Little Leaf! I asked him to try this, too. I thought..."  
  
He trailed off and shook his head. "Do not blame yourself for this," he said hoarsely.   
  
Legolas looked up at him, hesitantly.  
  
"You are not angry?"   
  
Aragorn looked at him and caressed his face. "How could I?" he asked. "It was I who brought up the idea. I was the one who first asked Gandalf to try this, remember?"  
  
Legolas nodded. For a moment, he simply enjoyed the soothing touch of his master's hand on his face, hich hair, the back of his neck...  
  
After a moment, he began carefully: "Estel... about last night..."  
  
Aragorn looked away. The hand caressing Legolas' head stopped and was withdrawn.  
  
Legolas felt its loss keenly.  
  
"Do not fear, Little Leaf," Aragorn said hoarsely. "You heard Boromir last night. You did nothing wrong. What he gave, was given in friendship, and you did just do what I asked you to."   
  
His voice broke. "I just wished --"  
  
He went mute.  
  
Legolas could not stand it anymore. He broke the distance, taking his master in his arms. "Estel," he began, "I -"  
  
But Aragorn shook his head again. He turned to his slave and returned the hug. For moments, he could not speak.  
  
Finally, he said: "It is all right, Little Leaf! I just wish I could give you what he can. I wish I would not have to..."  
  
He broke off again.   
  
Legolas shivered. He did not dare to say anything. He just returned his master's hug, wishing for all he was worth that this moment could last, that Aragorn's wish could come true, that there would be a way for them to be together as he had been with the man of Gondor...  
  
After a moment, he began again: "Estel..." - but he trailed off again. _What could he say? That he belonged to Aragorn, not to another? That it was **Estel** who he wanted and longed for, not the man of Gondor? All this was true, of course, but still...  
  
'Oh Estel,' _ he thought desperately, _'don't you see you make it harder for me to endure your needs if you insist on showing me what I cannot have with you?'_  
  
Taking a deep breath, he finally finished: "Would you – would you hold me, Estel?"  
  
Aragorn sighed. Complying wordlessly, he held him fast, stroking absentmindedly over his back.  
  
Finally, he spoke again.  
  
"Do not grieve, Little Leaf!" he said in a broken whisper. "Right after we leave Lothlorien, we will try this again. Gandalf will break the spell; he will find a way. And even if he cannot, then we shall finish this Quest and see the Ring destroyed, and with it any power that was used to cast this curse. We will destroy it! And you will be free. You'll see!"  
  
He swallowed. "Until then..." His voice trailed off again.   
  
Legolas said nothing. He just hugged him back.  
  
"Estel," he said finally, "may I sleep in your arms again, tonight?"   
  
Aragorn drew back a bit and looked at him, bemused. After a moment, he stole a kiss.   
  
"Of course," he said. "Of course you may!"  
  
And with that, he released his slave from his embrace and made to rise. "Let's try and get some sleep. We will need to have an early start, tomorrow."  
  
Legolas bowed to him and followed his lead. That night, despite the looming darkness and the distant whisper of flames grazing the edges of his dreams, he found rest again, huddled closely in the arms of his master.  
  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
  
As Gandalf insisted, the company started early the next day. Gandalf urged them to make haste. He did not tell them the reasons for his sudden haste, but his stern mood and his palpable restlessness transferred themselves to the rest of the company, and so no one protested his increased pace. They followed him through the hewn tunnels, steep flights of stairs and labyrinthine paths in gloomy silence, hurrying on as fast and quietly as they could, and did not take a rest until after another flight of steep, high stairs, Gandalf suddenly stopped, stared for a moment at the three opening tunnels before him, and finally said bemusedly: "I have no memory of this place!"* 1

  
The company settled down around him while he sat and tried to figure out their path. Legolas leaned against a rock close to the two Edain. He shivered. He could feel the surrounding darkness again, like a creature, on the prowl, waiting for the right moment to pounce. It felt like something alive, something evil... the urge to move, to hurry on, was overwhelming. But he could do nothing about it, so he waited.   
  
To distract himself, he concentrated on his master. It was clear that at some point during the last two days – when, he did not know – Aragorn and the man of Gondor had agreed on a truce between them. There was an air of tolerance between them, nearly of camaraderie and understanding, and apparently it extended to himself. Maybe they had found common ground on the basis of the wish to protect him. He did not know what to make of the thought, but for the moment, the absence of the former tension between the two men was a relief.  
  
He knew that both of them were aware of the creature Gollum, who had trailed their path 'til now. He did not know if the Dwarf or any of the Hobbits were aware of him, but he was sure Gandalf knew. His suspicions were confirmed when Frodo suddenly started, staring out into the dark, then turned and quickly made his way to Gandalf. Legolas followed the quiet conversation about the creature who had once been the keeper of the One Ring for a moment, then he stopped listening. It was not his business, after all. Instead he concentrated again on his self-appointed watch, trailing the surrounding cave with his eyes and ears as best he could. He shivered again. It was not as if the darkness was absolute, anyway. They were close to another place where one of the openings to the outside let in some light, and obviously, outside of the mountain it was now bright day. And yet, he felt as if the walls of the cave were closing in on him. His sense of approaching danger screamed at him, increasing by the minute, and remaining still and rooted to the spot became harder by the moment. He debated if he should warn his master – _but surely, Aragorn had to feel it, too, he could not be ignorant..._ He was about to bow down and alert Aragorn, when to his relief he heard Gandalf's voice:   
  
"Ah! It's that way!"*   
  
And with that, the old wizard stood up and chose one of the three tunnels.   
  
Legolas was on his feet as fast as their guide. He did not even hear the exchange between the Istar and Merry; he was just so relieved that they were moving on, he did not care about the reasons. He could still feel the danger coming closer, but it emanated mainly from the middle one of the three tunnels. In fact, he wondered why Gandalf had not felt this, too, and sooner. _If they were lucky, perhaps they could still be faster than the evil searching for them, perhaps they could escape these mines unscathed..._  
  
Then they were in a wide, open space again, dimly lit by a distant beam of light, and Gandalf raised his staff with the words: "Let me risk a little more light!"*  
  
The tip of the staff flared, hurting their eyes for a moment; then, their eyes adjusted, and Legolas gasped. They stood at the edge of a great hall. Not a cave; this room was crafted, not natural. And they were surrounded by a forest of pillars, regular, majestic, stretching far above their heads to great heights, many yards upwards, like great trees. All of them were carefully smoothed and exactly formed, and wore strange runes which Legolas recognized as the _cirth_ letters from his home; but he could not understand any of the inscriptions, for they were in a language he had never heard or read. At the top and the base, the runes were accompanied by geometrical figures, stern but beautiful, even though they were very far away from the images and sculptures resembling natural forms Legolas knew from his home.  
  
He took a deep breath. The enormity of the hall was nearly enough to banish even his unrest and his sense of lurking danger for a moment. This was like nothing he had ever seen! He barely heard Gandalf's satisfied statement:   
  
_"Behold! The great realm and the Dwarf-city of the Dwarrowdelf!"*_  
  
But he did hear the awed breath of the Dwarf beside him, his sigh: _"Khazad-Dûm!"_  
  
Legolas kept silent in respect. Finally, he could understand what the Dwarf admired so in these mines, the ancient dwelling of his people. Even infested with darkness and with lurking evil as they were now, these halls were magnificent.  
  
All too soon, Gandalf lowered his staff again and dimmed the light. "Let us move on. I have to make clear at which level we are, so I can find the way to the outside. It should be not far from here, anymore!" he said.  
  
Legolas looked around in wonder. _There were more halls like this one above and below them, then?_  
  
Soon enough, though, he was distracted from his admiration again by his increasing sense of danger and urgency. _However magnificent these halls were, they had to leave them behind them and fast!_ So he was rather irritated when suddenly, Gimli beside him gave a great shout and ran to an opening at the side of the hall, where one of the great beams gave light.  
  
Gandalf shouted: "Gimli!"*, but the Dwarf did not hear. He ran into the room and fell to his knees. Legolas noticed the long-decayed bodies of Dwarven warriors lying about.  
  
Slowly, in uncomfortable silence, the Fellowship followed the Dwarf through the open doorway.  
  
It was a doorway, Legolas registered, scorched and showing evidence of battle in the past, but still intact, with thick wooden doors at both sides. The room behind it was high, but small, compared with the great hall they had just left, and had once been a carefully crafted chamber. The walls were covered in cirth runes, and there was something that must once have been a well at one side. At two ends, there was an second level at the walls. But in the center of the room, where the great beam coming from a window to the outside lead, there was a form that could only be one thing: a tomb of stone. Legolas' people did not bury their dead in stone, they put them to rest in the forest at need. But he had seen such tombs in Rivendell. The grave of Aragorn's mother came to mind...  
  
Gimli was kneeling before the bier, declaiming words Legolas could not understand, apparently a prayer in his own language. Boromir stepped behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Gandalf read the inscription on the tomb. It was in Sindarin, so Legolas could read it, too. Still, they all listened to Gandalf's voice as he read: _"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then. It's as I feared!"*_  
  
Legolas looked around. The chamber was littered with broken, decayed bodies. It was all too obvious that this was what finally had become of the rest of Balin's colony.  
  
He barely registered that Gandalf had taken a scorched, damaged book from one of the bodies and began to read. His sense of danger, his unrest, caught back up with him. _Could they not feel that whatever evil was lurking in these mines was coming closer? That they could not afford to delay, but had to leave **now** , and with no time to spare?_  
  
He finally turned to his master, who stood beside him.  
  
"We must move on! We cannot linger!"* he pleaded.  
  
Aragorn looked at him and nodded. "Not now, Little Leaf," he whispered back. "Give them a moment."  
  
Legolas could not belief his ears. _Didn't Estel feel it, too? Did he really could not sense the danger, increasing by the moment?_  
  
Urgently, he tried again. _"Estel -"_  
  
But in this moment, the whole chamber resonated with a horrible crash. They all jumped. The noise was deafening after the silence of the mines, and it went on, and on, never stopping...  
  
Finally, it ceased. After some heartbeats, all eyes turned to Pippin, who stood beside the well, where now the corpse that had been sitting on the edge sat no longer.  
  
Then Gandalf barked: _"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"*_  
  
Legolas did not wait to see if the chastised Hobbit gave any reply. He could feel the evil presence that had lurked at the edges of his consciousness all day suddenly perk up, purposeful, drawing closer, ready to pounce. Ignoring all decorum, he turned to Aragorn again and hissed: _"Estel! We must leave! NOW!!"_  
  
Aragorn turned to him, but before he could react, they all heard it: a resonating sound, rhythmic, coming from the well. Drums! First there was just one beat, then the rhythm was picked up by other drums. Shouts answered. Legolas could hear running feet, getting closer. Suddenly Sam gasped aloud: "Frodo!"*  
  
Looking, Legolas could see the half-drawn little sword of the Ring-Bearer gleaming blue, warning of the approaching danger. _"Orcs!"*_ he hissed, and Aragorn beside him threw the torch away, barking orders to the Hobbits. Boromir ran to the doorway and jumped back just in time to avoid the two arrows which embedded themselves mere inches from his face. He drew the doors shut. Turning to Aragorn, who had closed up with him to help barring the door, he sighed: "They have a cave-troll!"  
  
Legolas threw two large, old axes over to the two men, who used them to barricade the door. Now that he was on the edge of battle, his mind cleared and became calm again. Finally, the nerve-stretching threat that had haunted the back of his mind all day was gaining shape, a shape he could combat and act upon. Orcs they could handle! He refused to think about the other darkness he had felt; they would deal with that when it came upon them. For now, it felt good to be finally able to do something.  
  
Soon he stood beside his master, bow drawn, arrow ready, as they had faced uncounted battles before. Boromir stood on his other side. They watched the door tremble under the thrusts of their attackers, watched the wood giving way and splinter... as soon as there was a hole big enough for the enemy to shoot through it, Legolas loosened his arrow. A yell told him that he had met his target. Aragorn followed his guide, then the enemy was through, and Legolas let fly arrow upon arrow at the attacking Orcs. Soon they were too close for arrow-range, and his knives were out to defend himself. Then there was a growl and a loud bang, and the doorway was shattered. The troll came in, dragged on a chain by his masters. Legolas sent an arrow its way, but the shaft did little damage to the creatures thick skin; all it managed was angering the beast. Legolas retreated. Against the troll, his knives were useless, and he could contribute more to the battle from a place where he could fire his bow again. He climbed one of the pedestals, beside a great pillar, and picked out Orc after Orc with his arrows.   
  
All the while, he kept sight of his master as best as he could, keeping his back guarded. He watched as Aragorn and Boromir worked together to distract the troll from Sam, and winced when Boromir suddenly found himself facing the angry beast and taking a blow that threw him through the chamber. He was relieved when the man of Gondor came up alive. An Orc made ready to kill the momentarily helpless man. Legolas let an arrow fly, but Aragorn beat him to the kill with a thrown knife. He did not see the troll turning on him. Legolas gave a warning shout - _"Estel!"_ \- but then the troll was distracted by a thrown axe, and turned against the new attacker. Gimli was standing on the sarcophagus of his cousin, wielding his axe against every Orc that came into his reach. He threw his other throwing axe against the beast, and it came upon him with a roar. His great hammer came down, shattering Balin's tomb to pieces. Gimli was thrown back, but he was on his feet again in an instant. Legolas admired the grace and agility of the stunted creature, who moved fast and nimble despite the heavy armor he wore. The troll came after him, but was angered by the Orcs, who tried to get hold of its chain again. The beast got rid of them with his great hammer. The dwarf chose this moment to attack again, and was thrown aside by a blow that would have killed any other creature. But the Son of Aule merely landed on his back and took a moment to get up again. The troll closed in and raised his weapon for the killing blow.   
  
Taking desperate measure, Legolas sent a shot with two arrows at the troll. The impact did no great damage to the beast, but drove it back, giving the Dwarf time to get up and get away. Then, Legolas lost sight of the battle for the moment, because some of the Orcs had finally climbed his pedestal and attacked him at short range. He dispatched them quickly.  
  
A shout warned him and he turned around just in time to duck away from the big chain the angry troll was hauling at him. He could do nothing but to duck the whirling metal two more times. But the third time, the chain missed and wound itself around the pillar.   
  
That gave Legolas an idea. Stopping the chain with his foot, he ran up it in an instant and climbed the creatures back, sending two arrows at once directly at his skull point-blank.  
  
It was no use; the skull of the thing was too thick even for this impact. Legolas jumped off just in time to escape the flailing arms which grabbed for him. At least he had the satisfaction that the creature hit itself with his own weapon, in an attempt to stop the pain. He retreated to a safe distance, seeking another place from where he could wield his bow.  
  
For moments, he lost sight of the others, fighting Orcs which had come too close. Finally, he broke free, looking around again from a place above where he could post himself – when he heard his master's desperate voice from across the chamber. _"Frodo!"*_ At the same time he heard the answering scream of the Hobbit: "Aragorn!"  
  
Legolas turned around and watched in horror. The troll had found the Ring-Bearer. It was standing over the helpless Hobbit, poised to strike. The deadly hammer was above its head, ready to come down. In an instant, Legolas sent an arrow at the beast. The shaft glanced off from the creatures back without doing any harm. The troll did not even notice.  
  
In the next moment, Legolas saw Aragorn jump between the creature and the Hobbit, wielding a spear he must have found somewhere. His horrified scream "Estel!" got swallowed in the noise of the battle. Aragorn rammed the spear into the side of the beast, and really forced it back, but then he was hit by a terrible thrust and flew away against the wall. He crumpled down and lay motionless.  
  
Legolas stood frozen in horror. He watched his fallen master intently. Surely, in a moment, Aragorn would wake, would move, would rise up again... But he could see not even any heaving of the chest. The troll was driven back by a rain of stones Merry and Pippin were throwing at it, and Frodo scrambled over to the lying man. He shook him, but to no avail. "Aragorn!" he urged. "Aragorn..."  
  
Legolas' mind screamed in denial. _Estel!  
  
It could not be. Not after all this time! Estel could not be dead, could he?_  
  
Shaking off the shock that had stunned him to the spot, he quickly began to make his way over to his beloved, but he was thwarted; suddenly, there were more Orcs in his way, attacking, ready to kill. Legolas killed them nearly without thought. _He had no time for this!_  
  
He heard Frodo's groan and pained gasp at the same time as the impact of the spear. Glancing over, he saw the Hobbit pierced by the spear the troll had plucked out of his side. Sam screamed. Then Merry and Pippin jumped the troll from the pedestal on which they stood and stabbed at him, sitting on his back. They did it no great harm, but they distracted him successfully from Frodo's crumpled form.  
  
Legolas cast another glance over to his master. Aragorn lay far too still. He had not woken. Legolas could see not breath, no sign of life.  
  
He turned to the troll again with grim determination.  
  
_It was decided then._ He would die, maybe not in this chamber, but in the following weeks. He would go on and aid the Fellowship to his best ability, until withdrawal and the poison sapped his strength and took his life; then he would follow in his master's steps. He had failed in his task to protect Aragorn, to protect Estel; now he would pay the price.  
  
But that would come later. For now, he had his master to avenge. _He had a troll to kill._  
  
Poised to shoot, bow drawn, he waited for his chance.  
  
  
______________ o ______________ 

The troll fell. Legolas stood, proud and tall, over the felled foe. Yet despite his success, he felt no real triumph. All he felt was growing emptiness. _Estel was gone!_  
  
He nearly missed Sam's gasp behind him, "Frodo!"* followed by a pitiful groan and the relieved exclamation of the gardener: "He's alive!"*  
  
Legolas hardly reacted. So the Ring Bearer had been lucky then. Still...  
  
Then he heard a voice that brought his head around.  
  
"You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar!"*  
  
Legolas whipped around and saw a sight that took his breath away. Aragorn was kneeling beside the recovering Ring Bearer, carefully checking for hidden injuries, despite Frodo's protest that he was all right. In response the Hobbit opened his shirt and showed the Mithril shirt that had saved his life; a shirt that Legolas knew only too well. But at the moment he could not care less about that forsaken corselet. He hardly heard the comment of the Dwarf. In three fast steps he had closed the distance, squatting down beside his master, grabbing his back.   
  
Aragorn looked up, surprised, as he felt himself nearly crushed from behind.  
  
"Estel!" Legolas whispered. "I thought..." He did not finish what he meant to say, just hugged him harder. Sudden pain reminded Aragorn of the battering he had just taken, and he gently broke free. "Careful, Little Leaf! You are about to finish what the troll started," he joked, and Legolas let go of him at once. Aragorn turned back to Frodo.  
  
A sharp shriek and the noise of many running feet cut through the moment of relief. The Orcs were back!  
  
All the company were on their feet. Flatly, Gandalf commanded: "To the bridge of Khazad-Dum!"*  
  
And they ran. Out of the shattered doorway, through the hall, dimly lit by the beam of light that ended at the door, through a forest of pillars, each looking the same, the clamor of their enemies behind them. Except that it was not merely behind them; the Orcs seemed to come from everywhere, like insects swarming out of their holes, even climbing down the pillars from some cracks in the roof. Soon the Fellowship was surrounded, facing a wall of bodies who snarled at them and swung their weapons threateningly.  
  
Legolas asked himself why they didn't attack. At this place, the Fellowship had no cover. A few well-placed arrows and they were done in.  
  
Then there was a distant growl and the Orcs shrieked in fear.  
  
Legolas started. He was as irritated at the sudden panic of their attackers as the others, but he was more disturbed by the sudden surge he felt of the surrounding darkness closing in, and of approaching evil. He turned to the direction of the noise, and saw a distant glow of flames, of ruddy, glowing fire...   
  
The Orcs around them shrieked and fled. In moments, they were gone, leaving them alone.  
  
Legolas turned his bow in the direction of the new danger. He felt the evil emanating from the sheen of flames like a living thing, felt it drawing closer, felt the evil presence he had sensed all day in the back of mind, at the edges of his consciousness, awake and ready, closing in to strike. The sheer power emanating from the approaching presence was staggering. The darkness and the malice it gave off froze him to the ground...  
  
And suddenly, he understood. He paled and lowered his bow.  
  
_So **that** was what he had brought down on them with his foolish request to be freed of the spell! **This** was what he had felt during that failed effort, the power he had woken with the attempt he asked of Gandalf. The surge of power Gandalf had used on him last night had been all needed to alert this evil to the presence of the Fellowship, and must have drawn it to them like a beacon in the night. After that foolish deed, there was no way that they could have escaped it.   
  
What a fool he had been!_  
  
He hardly heard Gandalf beside him, did not need to hear the wizard confirm what they faced.   
  
"A Balrog!" Gandalf said. "A demon of the ancient world."* He shook his head. " _Now_ I understand..."  
  
He drew a deep breath. "This foe is beyond any of you! _Run!_ "*  
  
They pelted down the hall, to the far end, the roar of the beast close behind. The hall opened to a wide space – and suddenly, there was no ground before them. Boromir, in the lead, flailed for balance and nearly fell, weighted down by his momentum and his heavy shield. Just in time, Legolas reached him, grabbing him and hauling him back. They fell backwards, Boromir landing on top of Legolas. The torch was lost to the chasm.   
  
They scrambled up and stared. The gap was huge. It stretched far above and down to depths unimaginable, and it went on and on to both sides, far wider as the hall they had just left. The chasm was as wide as the great hall, and it went down to depths beyond imagination. Stairs led away to the side, up to levels above, and down to those below. Far down, they could see fire; several of the deeper levels must be burning. The flames gave a reddish glow, enough to light their way, but not enough to really fill the hall with light. The heat was staggering.  
  
Strangely, there was hardly any smoke. There had to be some shafts somewhere in the levels below that worked like a chimney.  
  
The Hobbits arrived. Legolas reached for them, ready to assist them if they fell, but there was no need. They managed to stop themselves just in time; so did the Dwarf. Last were Aragorn and the wizard.  
  
There was a short argument between them. Gandalf shoved Aragorn away, pointing him to the far end of the gap, where they could see a thin, single bridge spanning the chasm, several levels below and half a mile away. "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!"*  
  
On they ran, down the steps, level for level, off the wall and over stairs supported by huge pillars, which rose from ground hundreds of yards below and shook under their feet. The roar of the beast was in their ears; the whole hall shook, and behind them great rocks broke loose from the roof of the cave, falling like deadly missiles to the depths below them. On and on they ran, until they were forced to a sudden stop. Before them part of the stairs spanning the pillars had broken off, leaving a gap far wider than a man was tall. They hesitated.   
  
Legolas breached the gap with one, nimble jump. He turned and beckoned. "Gandalf!"  
  
The wizard followed. Together, they turned back to the men, ready to catch whoever braved the gap next. Boromir hesitated but a moment. He turned to the Hobbits.   
  
Spears rained down on them, barely missing, crashing at their feet. Arrows followed. Looking up, they saw several Orcs, aiming at them from a gallery high above.   
  
Legolas' bow was out, and his shot did not miss, despite the distance. After a moment, Aragorn followed through.  
  
Boromir grounded his teeth. There was no time to lose! "Merry! Pippin!" Grabbing the two Halflings, each in one arm, he braved the jump. He barely made it; Legolas and Gandalf caught him and his precious cargo and pulled him onto safe ground. New arrows rained down on them from above. Legolas fired back again. Aragorn turned to Sam.  
  
He threw the Halfling over the gap, and Boromir caught him safely; but when Aragorn turned to Gimli, the Dwarf refused.  
  
"Nobody tosses a Dwarf!"*  
  
And he jumped. He sailed over the gap and nearly made it; but his feet barely reached the edge of the other side, and he fell back. Only Legolas' quick reflexes saved him. The Elf grabbed his beard, despite the loud protest of his quarry, and quickly pulled him up. He looked over to his master – and froze.  
  
Whether it was due to the strain on the withered stone, or to the trembling of the hall, the stairs under Aragorn's feet crumbled. Great chunks of the old structure broke away, nearly taking the Ranger with them. Over the crumbling stones, Aragorn scrambled up to safety. Finally he could pull himself back up to Frodo. Then he stood, facing Legolas, on the other side of the gap.   
  
A gap that now was far too wide for any man to jump.  
  
Legolas stared back at him in desperation.  
  
The gap was nearly twice as wide now than it had been before. It was far too wide even for him to jump. And they hadn't any rope.  
  
_Why did they not bring rope?_  
  
Helplessly, he stared back at Aragorn, at a loss what to do. _Estel! Estel would die!_ And there was nothing he could do about it!  
  
Aragorn turned to Frodo, and Legolas knew what his master was about to do. He would throw the Ring-Bearer over to them and send them off, ready to stay behind and face his doom – and certain death - alone. Grief and denial warred in Legolas chest. He waited, ready to catch the Halfling from his master.  
  
_Maybe, when Frodo was safe, he could try to brave the jump; it was far, but maybe not impossible; he might just made it... at least, then Estel would not be alone... they could try to find another way to safety..._  
  
But before Aragorn could pick the Hobbit up, a massive rock fell from the ceiling and smashed the stairs behind the pillar that supported him and Frodo.  
  
For a moment, everything seemed frozen. Then there was the awful sound of shattering stone. The pillar that supported Aragorn and Frodo groaned under the strain of its own weight, then the shaft broke. The pillar swayed, dithering, held in place by its own weight for a few, precious moments...  
  
Legolas stared, rendered immobile. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He watched in horror as Aragorn and the Hobbit tried to counter the swaying of the stone under their feet in a doomed attempt to keep the shaft in place - then Aragorn leaned forward and motioned the Hobbit to do the same. And truly, unbelievingly, the massive shaft began to fall, not to the side, but forward, towards safety, breaching the gap and crashing against the remaining part of the stairs, and with a gasp of pure relief Legolas caught his master in his arms and pulled him to safety. Beside him, Gandalf did the same with Frodo.  
  
There was no time to celebrate, or even show relief. In the next moment, they continued their mad race down the stairs, and to the bridge that held the way to safety.  
  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
  
The company reached the level of the bridge. A broad platform, like a huge entrance hall, opened to the deep chasm that blocked the way to safety. The only way across, a narrow, long arc of stone, seemed impossibly thin and fragile.  
  
Flames rose before them, erupting from the hall that bordered the platform. The heat was staggering; it stole their breath away. Suddenly, an impact shook the ground under their feet, and the flames rose as if in greeting. A loud roar; and finally, they saw the beast they had tried to escape.  
  
It was huge. Darkness and shadow seemed to shroud it like a cloak, although it gave off heat and breathed flames. Legolas cringed under the dark power surrounding it, an evil purpose, sickening and overwhelming and as solid as a wall of stone.   
  
For moments, he was frozen, spelled into place, as was the whole company around him; then, Gandalf's cry broke them all free of the ban, and he could move again.   
  
"Over the bridge! Fly!"*  
  
They ran, towards the narrow bridge, over the thin arc of stone that crossed the chasm, not daring to look back, not daring to look down, just intent to reach the dubious safety of the other side. Legolas took the rear. The others of the Fellowship were before him, save only the wizard. Only when they all had safely crossed the chasm, did Legolas dare to turn again.  
  
He stared in horror.  
  
Gandalf stood in the middle of the bridge and faced the demon. His cry of challenge filled the hall. _"You cannot pass!"*_  
  
The Balrog rose to its full height. Flames rose from its form; great wings like shadow spanned out on each side of the hall. Its very substance seemed to be of flames and shadow. But even more frightening was the power rolling off from it in waves; the sense of cruelty and malice was overwhelming.  
  
Legolas paled and nearly dropped his bow. _Glorfindel had fought **that**?! _  
  
He felt his blood freeze in his veins. Immobile, incapable to move, he watched as Gandalf challenged the beast. The wizard seemed impossibly small against the demon towering over them, and yet, despite the giant wings, the beast made no attempt to just jump over the gap. The power of the Istar, veiled most times, surrounded Gandalf like cold fire, no less fierce than the darksome power of the demon. Legolas watched as the demon drew a sword out of its very form and brought it down on the Istar, only to be repulsed. Then, Gandalf raised his staff high and brought it down on the bridge.  
  
_"You shall not pass!"*_  
  
The demon snorted and stepped forward on the arc of stone.  
  
And the bridge gave way under him. With a cry like the groaning of breaking stone, the beast fell into the chasm.  
  
For a moment, Gandalf stood unmoving on the remaining half the broken arc, looking after the falling form, then he sighed and turned. But in that moment, a whip of fire rose from the depths and wound around his foot. He was ripped down, grabbed the stone in desperation for a heartbeat – and then he was gone. His cry followed him.  
  
_"Fly, you fools!"*_  
  
Legolas could do nothing but obey his command. For a moment, he looked into the frozen face of his master, who stared after the wizard as if turned to stone. But he had not the chance to stay or to react, because he was dragged away – he did not know by whom – and pushed toward the stair that led off to the gate. Behind him, he could hear Boromir's cry: "Aragorn!"*  
  
Arrows rained down on them. He looked back, and finally, Aragorn began to move. Following his master's lead, Legolas ran up the stairs and off to the outside.  
  
He did not know how he made it out of the gate; he could not even recall any of the way. Outside, it was bright day. The sudden light was like a blow, blinding his eyes, rendering him sightless. He walked on, blindly, not caring where he went.  
  
Gandalf had died. And he had taken his one chance at freedom with him.  
  
_Worse. It was his fault that Mithrandir had fallen. It had been his impatience, his wish to be rid of the spell, that had caused the wizard to use his power, and thereby wake the beast and draw it to them. Without Legolas' impatience, the company might have reached the outside undisturbed. His foolishness had nearly doomed them all._  
  
Legolas stared blindly into the light and knew that he did not deserve to be freed. He did not deserve to be free even should their mission, by some mad chance, still succeed. He did not even deserve to be Estel's slave. He was a liability to his people. All he was good for was to be a plaything and a pet, a whore to be used and thrown away at need. He had been a fool to ever believe himself worthy of anything more.  
  
While his eyes slowly adjusted to the sun, Legolas knew that he would never attempt to be freed again.  
  
  
  
______________ o ______________  
  
  
  
\-- End of Part VIII --  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) All dialog from this point to the end of the chapter, with rare exceptions, is taken directly from the movie "The Fellowship Of The Ring" by Peter Jackson (New Line Cinema 2001), Extended Edition. The lifted dialog is marked with an *. However, I added my own interpretation to the scenes, of course. Please, bear with me!


	49. The Golden Wood

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story **"Bound"** , which can be found here: <http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue>  
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.  
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful and encouraging **Namarie!** Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.   
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **special warning for this chapter** : None. _Please heed the warnings!_  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift some dialog from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of The Ring" (Extended Edition), again. Lifted dialog will be marked like this*. Please bear with me!   
  
Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
**XLXVII. The Golden Wood**  
  
  
Aragorn wiped a last spot of Orcblood from his sword. The motion was calming, routine; he had done it a thousand times before. He looked up.  
  
All around him, he could see the scattered remaining members of the Fellowship. Just a few feet away, two of the Hobbits – Merry and Pippin, he realized – squatted on the ground, clutching each other; Merry was trying to calm Pippin, who trembled helplessly. Beside them sat Sam, staring at his hands and feet as if he wondered if they really belonged to him. Frodo alone was not there; the Ring-Bearer had wandered off and stood at some distance, motionless and frozen, his back turned to them all. Aragorn suspected that he was crying, too. Just a little uphill, Boromir had trouble restraining a struggling Gimli from running back into the mines. The Dwarf shouted words in his strange native tongue and fought with all his might, swiping his axe at the mountain they had just left. What he screamed, Aragorn did not know, but it sounded like a mixture of threats and curses.   
  
As for Legolas -  
  
Aragorn swallowed as he took in his Elf.  
  
Legolas stood a little distance away. He looked pale, lost, barely aware of his surroundings. His motions were clumsy, without his usual grace. Aragorn doubted he truly saw anything.  
  
He swallowed again. _There stood his slave._ Bound to him without hope, without release, except for the slim hope of success in a nearly impossible mission – a mission that had just become more hopeless with the fall of their trusted guide. And even should they manage to succeed, by some mad chance, there was no guarantee that it would indeed bring Legolas release. That faint hope existed only given Gandalf's last assumption had been true, and the destruction of the One Ring would also break the power of the Three. If Gandalf had been wrong about that...  
  
In that case there was no hope to be had, or at least no hope Aragorn could see.   
  
Aragorn cut off that train off thought. It was too painful to contemplate.  
  
Bitterness welled up in him. In his mind, he saw again the images of the last half hour, of their desperate struggle to escape the mines – oddly overlaid with the images of the visions that had haunted him so long.   
  
_**Great dark wings, made of shadow... the face of his Elf, white as snow, paler than he had ever seen him, frozen in utter terror... Fire and shadows reaching for them... the company, caught, no way out, running for their lives... Certain death for one of them, Gandalf's pale face, urging them to fly... He himself, for moments unable to move, frozen in horror... the feeling of loss, so overwhelming that he thought he would surely break... Boromir shouting his name, urging him to move on, while he stood frozen...**_  
  
But he had read the vision wrong. And in his fear to lose his Elf, in his need to defeat fate and deflect the perceived threat to Legolas, he had driven the Elf into the arms of Boromir, and then insisted that Gandalf should try to break the spell without delay. And with this very action he had brought doom down on them all, and at the same time he had destroyed all of Legolas' hope for freedom.  
  
Aragorn bit his lips.  
_  
'I am sorry, melethron,'_ he thought. _'I swear to you, if there is a way to see you free, I shall find it. I'll do whatever it takes. But I won't let you die. And if there is no other way, I will take care of you. However and how long I have to do so. I won't let you die.'_  
  
But he did not dare to say any of the words aloud, and they left a bitter taste in his own throat. _How many broken promises had he made, already?_  
  
Grimly, he shook his head and banished the thought. _They had no time for this!_  
  
Aloud, he said: "Legolas! Get them up!*"(1)  
  
Legolas jumped a little at his master's command. He turned to him, then he started to move. He still looked pale, far too pale for Aragorn's liking, and he seemed barely aware of what he was doing; but he followed his master's command and walked over to Sam, decades of training taking over.  
  
Aragorn nodded to himself. He turned to Boromir.   
  
But there, he met resistance.  
  
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"* the Gondorian protested.   
  
Aragorn looked at him. He had no doubts that Boromir and Gimli did not trust him as a leader. Not after everything the two had learned of him during these past few weeks. He was not sure if he trusted himself. But what alternatives did they have?  
  
He forced himself to stay calm. "By Nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien!"* He took a breath. "Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli! Get them up!"*  
  
Not waiting for Boromir's reaction, he bowed down to Sam and helped him up to his feet.   
  
After a moment, he saw Boromir following his example with Merry and Pippin. He turned to fetch Frodo.  
  
_Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance!_  
  
  
__________________ o _______________ 

Legolas listened intently. He could not hear anything out of place: there was the sighing and creaking of the branches of the occasional birches and fig-trees, bereft of canopy; there was the rustling of the bushes, the dry grass and heather that covered the mountain slopes; and of course there were the heavy breathing and the stumbling steps of his comrades, occasionally accompanied by a breaking branch, a moving stone, and a quiet curse when one or the other of them missed a step or stubbed a toe. But no grunts or cries in the night behind them, no fast moving steps or groaning of the earth under foul feet. As far as he could tell, the slopes of the mountains behind them lay silent.  
  
And yet. He was certain they were hunted. He could feel it in his very bones. There was an ever growing sense of urgency in the back of his mind, a growing shadow...  
  
He cast a look at Frodo.  
  
The Ring Bearer looked pale. There was a hollowness to his cheeks, and his mouth was a thin line; but he gave no other sign of his exhaustion. He stood there, catching his breath, waiting patiently for the company to either make camp or move on. The other Hobbits, standing around him, we looking not much better. Merry was in a quiet discussion with Pippin and Sam, and all Legolas could overhear were bits of phrases as "...cannot go on, we ought to stop, poor lad..." and "...but, see, we have to find..."  
  
He stopped listening to them and turned back to the path behind them.  
  
They had run all day, and hardly dared to stop, except once, shortly after noon, when Boromir had finally reminded Aragorn of Frodo's nearly fatal run-in with the cave-troll. Aragorn had stopped to apologize and treat the injury. The Hobbit had been lucky. The blow he had received could easily have crushed his chest, despite the mithril shirt, or at least have cracked a rib or two; but all it had given him, apparently, was a nasty bruise. Still, the injury must have hurt, and had considerably slowed him down. But the Ring Bearer had not uttered any complaint. None of the Hobbits had, although they had to struggle to keep up all day.  
  
The old Dwarven road, leading down the mountains over thousand years ago, was overgrown and broken, at some places reduced to a mere track. Massive boulders lay about, and heather and vines covered the ground, hiding treacherous holes prone to catch unwary feet. Legolas, as well as his master, had traveled this path and knew where to set their feet, but the others were not so lucky, and so their progress had been rather slow. It had taken hours to put some distance between them and the gates of Moria; and all the time the icy wind blew in their faces and chilled them to the bone.  
  
But now the wind was at their backs. It should carry the noise of any followers, but it did not. And yet...  
  
Legolas stared out into the night. He was sure the Orcs of Moria had not started pursuit in the light of sun, but the sun had vanished behind the western mountain range long ago, leaving this side in gloomy twilight. The hunters could be on their track for hours. And they'd be fast.  
  
"We made it!"  
  
Legolas looked at his master. Before them, in a distance of perhaps another ten or fifteen miles, loomed the dark line of the Mallorn trees of Lothlorien. They were a solid line in the night; even now, in winter, they had not lost their canopy, and rose like pillars from the ground.  
  
He hesitated.   
  
Aragorn turned to him. "Look, we are at the waters of the Nimrodel, already. Another hour, and we are safe. I think we can afford a short rest, here."  
  
Legolas swallowed. It was not his place to contradict his master, and yet...  
  
"My lord, the Orcs..." he began in Silvain.  
  
Aragorn gave him a sharp look. "Do you hear anything?" he asked quietly.  
  
Legolas shook his head. "Not yet, my lord, but..." he trailed off.  
  
Aragorn looked at him another moment, then he turned and looked back at the path they had come.  
  
"Yes," he said, "I feel it, too. But still, the Hobbits need a rest. I think we can at least afford a short stay and a meal. It is but a short way to the woods, now, and there we will be safe."  
  
Legolas said nothing. His memories of his last stay in those woods were not good, and now... He shuddered.   
  
_But what choice did they have? And besides, whatever waited for him there, whatever they would do to him in reproach for his deed, would be nothing more than he deserved. In any case, he was just a slave. His place was to follow his master, whatever that included._  
  
"As you wish, my lord," he said.  
  
Aragorn gave him a careful look, but then he merely nodded. "Fetch some water," he commanded. "I shall tell the others!"  
  
  
_____________ o _____________ 

Legolas swallowed. He stared at the line of trees before him, rising like pillars up into the night. Beside him, he could hear the relieved sighs of his comrades. The wind was taking up. They were glad that, finally, they had reached shelter. He listened again. During the last half hour, he believed he had heard some shrieks, occasionally, and caught a faint, foul smell, just a trace within the wind...   
  
But he heard nothing, now.  
  
He cast a look at Aragorn. His master seemed relieved, as well. He was smiling.  
  
Legolas looked ahead again. The wood loomed before them like a threat. He shuddered. Swallowing hard once more, he followed his master under the eaves of the forest.  
  
Beside him, he heard Gimli's voice: "Stay close, young Hobbits! They say, a great sorceress live in these woods; an Elf witch of terrible power! All who look upon her fall under her spell!"*  
  
Legolas gave him a careful look. _You have no idea, master dwarf..._   
  
But as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, he was distracted. He could hear Gimli go on, but he was not listening anymore; his hands were already moving, acting on pure instinct. His bow was out and an arrow on the string before he realized what he was doing.  
  
"I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox – uh!"* The dwarf broke off at the sudden appearance of an arrow in his face. They all froze. They were surrounded by a wood of arrows.  
  
Then a voice drifted over to them, a voice Legolas recalled only too well. He resisted the urge to swallow.  
  
"The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark!"*  
  
Gimli growled.  
  
Aragorn swallowed and raised his hands. He stepped forward. "Haldir of Lorien," he said in Sindarin, "Well met! We need your help!"  
  
Haldir's eyes grazed over the Fellowship. His gaze came to rest on Legolas for a moment, searing through him like burning fire; then it wandered on. His expression did not change.   
  
"Aragorn Dúnadan." he greeted with a bow. "You are known to us."* He raised his head again. "Yet the company you bring with you is strange, indeed. What do you want in the Woods of the Lady?"  
  
Beside him, Gimli growled: "Aragorn! These woods are perilous! We should go back!"*  
  
Haldir paid him no heed.   
  
Aragorn gave Legolas a quick, mute sign to lower his bow.  
  
"We seek shelter," he said, "and we would have free passage through your woods. We are on an important mission."  
  
Haldir watched him without emotion. He changed to Silvain.  
  
"I do not know of any mission you might have," he said, "and none that would warrant bringing a Dwarf into our woods. Or a strange human." He raised his brows in the direction of Frodo. "And you bring great evil with you. I cannot let you pass."  
  
Aragorn straightened up. "Haldir!" he protested in the same tongue. "My mission is known to the Lady! It is of vital importance to all of Middle Earth! We need to see the Lady of the Woods!"  
  
Haldir watched him calmly. "I do not know of any vital mission, Ranger," he said. "However, if you really want to enter our wood, I might be persuaded. For a price." His gaze returned to Legolas.   
  
Legolas felt his skin crawl. He caught a glimpse of Frodo, who glanced between him, Haldir and Aragorn with bewilderment. Behind him, he could hear Boromir's angry voice, in Westron. "What's going on?"   
  
He did not answer. Something vied for his attention. There was something in the back of his awareness, something he could not yet lay his finger on...  
  
Aragorn paled. "What price?" he asked. "What do you want?"  
  
Haldir looked back at him. "You brought your slave, I see," he said. "I always wondered... did he learn much while he was in your care? I might be persuaded to let you enter our woods, if in return I could sate my... curiosity." He gave a faint, suggestive smile. "If you were willing."  
  
Legolas cringed inwardly. He had known it would come to that; he could feel Haldir's gaze on his skin like a smoldering coal. He shivered.  
  
Aragorn froze. He balled his fist and straightened. "No!" he said. "How dare you... _No!_ "  
  
Haldir shrugged. His followers did not move a muscle.   
  
Legolas took a brief, shallow breath. He hardly dared to move. And yet, he felt more and more distracted. _There was something... something in the wind..._  
  
And then he heard it.  
  
_The groaning of the grass under foul feet. The scream of birches, wakened from slumber, and fig trees shuddering under the touch of cruel claws. The land was screaming._  
  
He stared at the guards in front of them. They stood unmoved, gave no sign that they had noticed. How could they not know? How could they not feel it, too?   
  
The Noldor of Rivendell had grown deaf to the voices of the trees, but _these_ were _Wood-Elves!_  
  
Haldir gave no sign that he heard anything unusual. He shrugged once more. "You heard my word on this," he said. "It's that, or turn around. I will not let you pass save for the prize I named."  
  
Aragorn glowered. "No! If we have to go around your wood, we will!" he growled.  
  
Legolas shivered. He cast a quick glance at Frodo, who looked jumpy and disturbed. The Ring Bearer did not understand the exchange, since it was held in Silvain, which he did not speak; and he could not hear the warning of the trees. But still, he felt the unrest, and apparently, he could sense the growing danger...   
  
Inwardly, he cringed. _Strange hands on him again... being used like a thing...  
  
But he could not let their mission go awry, just for his own, worthless fears and needs. He had done enough already. If that was what was needed to ensure Gandalf's death had not been in vain, so be it._  
  
Legolas looked at his master again. "My lord," he dared to say, "Estel..."  
  
Aragorn did not even turn around.  
  
"Be quiet!" he commanded sharply, "I will not stand for this. If we have to take our luck with the Orcs, we will!"  
  
"Estel--" Legolas protested.  
  
Haldir gave him an amused look. "Not very obedient, your slave, is he?" he remarked. "Maybe he needs a harder hand?"  
  
Aragorn gave a sharp reply, but Legolas missed it. Boromir had taken a step forward to stand beside him.   
  
"What is it? What is happening?" he demanded sharply in Westron. Frodo, at his other side, looked worried.  
  
Legolas opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, Aragorn whipped around to him.  
  
"I said: Be silent!" he commanded. "I will not stand for this."  
  
Legolas cringed at his tone, but he still shook his head.   
  
"My lord, we cant!" he said urgently. "The Orcs are out there. They are close. And we are in the vicinity of Dol Guldur! We'll never make it!" He risked an imperceptibly nod in the direction of the Ring Bearer and looked back at his master. "Aragorn..."  
  
His master made a gesture, as if he were about to hit him in the face, and Legolas cringed; but the blow did not come.  
  
Aragorn hesitated; then he let his hand fall to his side again. He gave him a pained look.  
  
"Little Leaf..." he whispered.  
  
Then he turned back to Haldir and stepped close.  
  
"If there is need for one of us to serve your... needs," he said in an angry whisper, barely audible over the rustling of the canopy and the noises in the wind, "then I offer myself!"  
  
Legolas stared. "Estel!" he gasped, but Aragorn ignored him.  
  
Haldir took a step back. Legolas could see his highly amused look, seizing up the Ranger.   
  
He cringed again. _Estel did not know what he was offering! He could not..._  
  
He looked helplessly at Frodo and could see his puzzled look. The Hobbit did not know what was going on, and did not understand the sheer enormity of what Aragorn just had done, but he could feel that something was amiss. So could the others.   
  
He tried again. "Estel--"  
  
Aragorn ignored him.  
  
Haldir gave the Dúnadan another long, appraising look. "An... interesting option," he finally said, equally quietly. "I wonder what your betrothed would make of it?"  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. But otherwise, he did not move.  
  
Haldir smiled.   
  
"In any case, I will have to decline. You are not under the spell. I will not risk the forming of a bond." He looked at Legolas. "Him. For the durance of your stay. No less," he said.  
  
Aragorn squared his jaw. He shook his head.  
  
Legolas shivered.  
  
_Other hands on him than his master... being a mere plaything again, forced to serve whoever came to call...  
  
But this was what he was good for, was it not? This was what he deserved. And if it served to buy them safety, to enable Frodo to finish his mission..._  
  
"My lord, I can take it," he lied, quietly. "Please. If this is what it requires..."  
  
Aragorn whipped round to him in one swift movement. "I said, be quiet!"  
  
He grabbed Legolas' arms and shook him. "I will not-" he trailed off.  
  
Legolas cringed under his harsh grip. He looked in his master's eyes and saw the same torment he felt inside himself.  
  
After a moment, Aragorn mouthed: "No!"  
  
"We have no choice, Estel," he whispered noiselessly. "They are close. I can hear the very earth scream under them. And they are many. We would not stand a chance."  
  
Aragorn's mouth was a harsh, thin line. He shook his head. Then he swallowed. "Legolas..." he mouthed.   
  
Legolas could feel him tremble. "I can take it, Estel," he assured, very quietly.   
  
It was a lie. He hoped his master would not call him out on it.  
  
Aragorn's gaze searched his own, thoroughly.   
  
"You are sure?"  
  
Legolas tried his best to look convincing.  
  
"Yes, my lord," he asserted. "Yes, Estel. I am sure."  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes.  
  
"I would have spared you this," he said tonelessly, a mere movement of the lips. "I would have risked the battle with the Orcs. Or even given him myself..."  
  
"I know," Legolas replied. "Estel..."  
  
Aragorn leaned forward. Briefly, he touched his forehead to that of his slave. Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes again and let go. He turned back to Haldir, his eyes hard with determination.  
  
"Three nights," he said, "no more. The days, he stays with us. And you will leave no marks, or lasting injury."  
  
Haldir's eyes betrayed his amusement.  
  
"A week," he countered. "No lasting marks. As for the injuries... I do not share your preferences, Ranger. I just want to enjoy his services the... _usual_ way."  
  
Legolas said nothing. He did not dare to look around, to even breathe.  
  
"What are they talking about?" demanded Boromir in Westron. "What was all this about? What does he want from you?!"  
  
Frodo looked at him. "Legolas?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"  
  
Legolas took a deep breath. "Everything is all right," he managed in Westron. "Aragorn is negotiating for our entrance and protection. Haldir is suspicious of us, and of what we bring with us."  
  
The words sounded hollow and unconvincing to his own ears. He saw the Dwarf giving him a sharp, doubtful look. But Frodo paled. Boromir looked suspicious. "Aren't they supposed to help us?" he asked puzzled.   
  
Legolas did not meet his gaze.  
  
"Mithrandir is not with us anymore," he said, as if that would explain everything.  
  
Frodo looked away.  
  
In front of them, the whispered discussion between Aragorn and Haldir had come to an end. Aragorn looked angry, but forlorn. He took a step back and bowed his head.  
  
Haldir smiled. He took a step forward and surveyed them.  
  
"You will come with me!" he stated, gesturing with his head over his shoulder. His smoldering gaze rested for just a moment too long on Legolas, then he turned around and led the way. The other Elves fell into line behind him.  
  
Legolas shuddered and bowed his head.  
  
\-- _Time to pay, then._ \--  
  
  
_______________ o _______________  


  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
Notes:  
  
(1) Some of the dialogue in this chapter is directly lifted from the movie, LOTR – The Fellowship of the Rings, Extended Edition. Lifted dialogue will be marked with an asterisk*.  
  
Additional note:   
I remind everyone again that this story is based on _Movieverse._ Bookverse, the Fellowship stays about a month in Lothlorien, and loses all sense of time while they are there. Legolas spends the day with them, but the night with other Elves. There is also that famous blindfold scene. _Movieverse_ , however, we get the impression that the whole visit to Lothlorien takes place in just a night or two, and the blindfolding scene is missing even in the Extended Edition. I take the liberty to take a middle approach, in this, to fit my purposes. And of course, there will be other deviations from the movie. Please, bear with me!


	50. The Three Brothers

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found [here: http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373   
](http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373)   
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful Nancy and the most generous and always encouraging Randy! Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. **Special warning for this chapter:** Non-con and gang-rape. Please heed the warnings!  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:   
_// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
**XLXVIII. The Three Brothers**  
  
  
Legolas stared out into the night. All around him, the Mellyrn of Lothlorien rose like pillars, blotting out the sky. The canopy was nearly as dense as he recalled from home; except in his own woods, the trees were bare at this time of the year.   
  
The trees here still wore their leaves, and their huge, serene majesty seemed strangely unaffected by any of the troubles of the world.  
  
And yet, even here, some sixty yards above the ground, Legolas could still hear the groaning of the earth under foul feet, the screaming of the grass under the harsh tread of the Orcs. It ran like a ripple through the wood beneath him. How strange that the Mellyrn around should not feel it, too. Or was he merely deaf to their voice in the Song?  
  
Behind him, at the other end of the talan, he could still hear the heated, ongoing discussion between his master and Haldir. Aragorn had started arguing again as soon as the company had reached the platform, high above the ground. He spoke in Silvan, quiet but angry and intense. Legolas could hear Haldir's sparse and rather unimpressed replies, but he did not follow what was said. Nor did he follow the quiet exchange between Boromir and Frodo, to his left. All his senses were cast outward, at the approaching danger. They were closer, now.  
  
Was he the only one who felt it?  
  
"What are they talking about?"  
  
Legolas jumped and turned around. It took him a moment to find his voice. "What do you mean, Master Dwarf?"  
  
The sharp eyes of the Dwarf seemed to pierce right through him. Gimli nodded in the direction of his master. "That Elf and Aragorn," he said, "they are talking about you, are they not?"  
  
Legolas schooled his face as best as he could. His voice sounded weak in his own ears. "I don't know what you mean."   
  
The Dwarf glared at him. "Do not play coy with me, Master Elf. I know Aragorn struck a bargain with that Elf when we entered the wood. The way he acted towards you was no different from when he sold you off to Boromir, or when he confessed the nature of your relationship to us. He traded you for our entrance in this wood, did he not?" His voice was grim, but quiet.  
  
Legolas bit his lips. It took him a moment to find a reply. "Please, don't ask!" he finally managed, "and do not tell the others! Haldir... would not have let us in. There was no other choice..."  
  
"Smaug's entrails!" Gimli exploded, "That Ranger asked us to respect you as a fellow warrior! It is time, then, that he acts on his words. He has no right -"  
  
Legolas bowed his head.  
  
"Yes, he has," he said quietly. "I am his slave, remember? And in this wood, I am just that. Lothlorien is allied with Rivendell. They hold a number of my people."  
  
Gimli made a face. He fingered his axe.  
  
Legolas took a deep breath and looked down at the Dwarf with astonishment. "I thank you for your concern, Master Dwarf," he said, "but may I ask: since when is my fate of much import to you?"  
  
Gimli looked away. "You saved my life, in Khazad-dûm," he said reluctantly. "I owe you. So does Boromir. Mahal, so do we all. None of us would have made it out of Khazad-dûm without your bow."  
  
Legolas turned around to watch out at the trees again.  
  
"I am glad that I could be of use," he managed to say, "but you are wrong. But for me we might not have..."   
  
He broke off. Turning back to the Dwarf, he went on: "In any case, do not be so quick to judge my master. He did what he had to do. We needed entrance in these woods. The Orcs..."  
  
"Bah! We have taken them before!" The Dwarf took a firmer hold of his axe. "We can do so again. Do not give me that nonsense, Master Elf. We can face them!"  
  
"We made it out of the mines by mere luck," Legolas replied, "and this time, they are prepared for us, and come in greater numbers."  
  
He closed his eyes. "In any case, we are here, now, and we have no choice. What is done, is done. Please, let it be, Master Dwarf. We cannot afford a breach in hospitality." He opened his eyes again to Gimli's disbelieving stare.  
  
"We cannot? Breach in hospitality? That Elf will feel my axe!" the Dwarf growled.  
  
Legolas reached out and quickly grabbed his arm. "No, he will not!" he hissed. "Remember your own oath? You swore to me that you would do nothing to endanger my people! There are other hostages, here. What we will do, what I will do, may well affect them, too. If you bring harm on any of our hosts, or if you make them think I turned you against them, my kin will suffer. You swore that you would not endanger them!"  
  
He let go of the startled Dwarf and straightened up.  
  
"Forgive my temper," he said after a moment. "But I beg of you, please keep your peace. Do not say anything. Not even to the others. We cannot afford -" He bit his lips and broke off again.  
  
He met Gimli's uncomprehending stare.  
  
"I do not understand you," the Dwarf finally said, "but if this is truly what you wish, Master Elf, I shall do as you ask. It is your honor at stake, here, after all."  
  
And with that he turned around and went back to the others. Legolas watched him go. His heart felt ashen.  
  
He was distracted by a movement at the entrance of the _talan_. A new Elf came up through the hole and quickly made his way over to Aragorn and Haldir.  
  
The newcomer leaned over to Haldir and whispered a few words in his ear. Haldir nodded and straightened. He turned back to Aragorn. "As compelling as this discussion has been," he said aloud, "your pursuers have arrived, and we are going to make sure they will not leave these woods again. Stay here! Two of my men will ensure your security."  
  
He nodded shortly to two of the guards, who merely nodded back. Then he turned around and reached for his weapons. "Our bargain stands."  
  
Aragorn straightened as well. "Wait!" he said in Westron, "we will help you fight them off."  
  
Haldir tuned back to him. "Really? I thought you would stay here and keep your company safe?"  
  
Aragorn met his gaze squarely. "Gimli and Boromir will do this, together with your guards. I and Legolas will go with you. The Orcs followed us here; we will take part in finishing them off.  
  
Behind him, both Gimli and Boromir straightened as if to protest, but Aragorn spared them no attention. He kept his eyes on Haldir.  
  
Haldir looked back at him, then he shrugged. "Very well," he said in Silvan, "but do not think it changes anything." And with that he vanished through the entrance hole and was gone.  
  
Aragorn's mouth was a thin line, but he did not say anything. He merely gave Legolas a sharp nod and followed.   
  
Legolas bowed his head and followed his master. As he left the _talan_ , he felt the sharp eyes of the Dwarf on his back.  
  
  
________________ o _____________

. 

Legolas drew his, bow, released and sent the arrow on its deadly path. Even before the first one hit, he had another arrow out and drew his bow again, then a third. Pull, release. Pull, release. As always, the mechanical movement calmed his nerves and filled him with the cold concentration of battle, narrowing his world down to the here and now. It took his mind off other things, things to come or to endure, things he could not control. He let another arrow fly. Some twenty steps before him, one of the Orcs cried out and fell, then a second and a third. The others ran about in rage and confusion. All around them, their comrades fell, cut down by a rain of deadly missiles coming from all sides out of the trees. Few of them found the time to return the fire. They were at a disadvantage, though; while their night-vision was said to be far better than those of the Elves, they were milling about in a starlit glade, while their attackers remained between the trees. They found few targets.  
  
One of the Orcs nocked an arrow of his own and sent it Legolas' way. The shot missed Legolas' head by mere inches, but he paid it no heed. Already his own arrow left his bow and the Orc slumped and died. His comrades screeched in fear and rage and turned around to flee. Most made it only to the border of the glade.   
  
There, they were met by a whirl of knives, as the Elves cut off their route of escape and met them blade to blade. The Orcs were already heavily decimated, and those few who stood to fight found them outmanned two to one. Their cries of rage filled the glade. And still, they continued to be cut down by the arrows from behind. Legolas chose his targets well, taking out only those Orcs who were about to land a blow on an unsuspecting fighter. Aragorn appeared among the fighting Elves, his sword cutting down enemies left and right. One of the Orc struck at him from behind; Legolas' arrow took him out in mid-swing. The beast cried and fell, his blow going awry. Aragorn whirled around and saw the fallen enemy. He recognized the arrow, looked across the glade and gave Legolas a short, grateful nod. Then he turned to the next enemy and cut him down. Legolas lost track of him, shooting Orcs who tried to run. Soon he ran out of arrows, but before he could draw his knives, it was all over. Dead Orcs lay scattered all over the forest floor. In the distance, Elves hurried off to follow those who had escaped. None of them would ever make it out of the Wood again.  
  
Legolas looked at them with satisfaction. Battle rage boiled in his blood, and for a moment, he could nearly forget...  
  
"What a skillful little slave," a voice said beside him, and a heavy hand settled on his shoulder. He jumped and whirled around. Haldir smirked at him. "Your master must be really proud of you!"  
  
Legolas shuddered. He resisted the impulse to fight back, to cut the Lothlorien Elf down, and merely edged carefully out of the other's reach. Giving the Marchwarden a reluctant bow, he put his knife away and looked down. He could hear Aragorn approach them quickly.  
  
"Leave him alone!" Aragorn demanded. "The bargain is off! We did our part to help fend off the Orcs. Now..."  
  
Haldir snorted. "Second thoughts already, Ranger? It is too late for that." He gestured at the carnage all around him. "You agreed to the price. Everyone here witnessed your acceptance. And we have just secured the safety of your comrades. Are you planning to break your word?"  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. "That was before we helped you fight them off. We took part in the protection of your woods. The agreement is void."  
  
Haldir shrugged.  
  
"And without our agreement, neither you nor these Orcs would be here," he said coldly. "Would you present this case before the Lady?"  
  
Legolas, beside him, shuddered again. It was true. _Without him, none of this had happened. Without him, Gandalf would be still alive, among them. Without him..._  
  
Haldir paid him no heed. He cornered Aragorn with a cold stare. "I do not know about _your_ people, Dúnadan, but here in the Golden Wood, we keep the agreements we make."  
  
Aragorn grid his teeth. "Haldir..."  
  
The Marchwarden shook his head. "Enough! We had an agreement, and the bargain stands. You will return to your comrades. Your slave will come with me."  
  
He turned around and nodded to his guards. Four of the Elves stepped up and positioned themselves around Aragorn. "Saeron, lead lord Aragorn back to his company and keep them safe on their talan this night," Haldir commanded. "You others, take care of this mess."  
  
He nodded shortly at the fallen Orcs. The leader of the guards gave him a bow.  
  
Aragorn balled his fist and looked at Legolas. "Little Leaf..."  
  
Legolas briefly met his gaze, then he looked down. He felt Haldir's leering gaze like a touch. Bile rose in his throat.   
  
'No matter', his mind screamed at him. _'It is no more than you deserve. You can take this. You have endured the like before. It is but a small price to pay. You can take this...'_  
  
The words sounded hollow in his mind, but he held close to them. He could hear his master's sharp intake of breath. "Haldir," Aragorn began again, but he was cut off.  
  
The Marchwarden turned back to the leader of the guards surrounding Aragorn. "Saeron, accompany our guest Aragorn back to the camp. Now. Make sure he does not miss it."  
  
Then he turned back to Legolas. "You will follow me."  
  
He turned around, not even giving Legolas the time to retrieve his arrows.  
  
Legolas gave him a nod. Turning back to his master, he gave Aragorn a deep, respectful bow; then he turned and followed Haldir from the glade, and away from all hope. Behind him, he could hear Aragorn's fading curses, as the Lothlorien guards stopped his master and lead him off in a different direction.  
  
  
______________ o _______________

.

The _talan_ was a big one, and built like a home. Not like the plain, but spacious guarding platform where the Fellowship was sheltered, which spread out between the main branches of a big Mallorn and had no further shelter except the canopy above; this _talan_ was built around the trunk of the tree, and held a hut. The entrance hole opened to a small space in front of the hut, some rope and a few, handy tools laying ready in front of a wooden door. The walls were round and made of wood and wattle. An opening in the dense canopy above let in just enough light to see. Legolas stared. The whole shelter was not as big and exquisitely done as the ones he recalled from Caras Galadhon, but bigger than the average _talan_ back home in Mirkwood. And it was also bigger than the shelter a single warrior would require on an outpost like this. _What..._  
  
"Don't tarry there. Hurry up, slave. Get inside!"  
  
Legolas jumped and turned. Haldir entered the platform behind him. When Legolas did not obey immediately, the Marchwarden stepped close and grabbed his hair, jerking his head back. Sharply.  
  
"Defiant, are we? Just as well! That's the way I like it. Remember, Mirkwood spawn, you're mine, tonight. And the night after that, and after that, until we reach Caras Galadhon. It will be a delight to tame you and relish your body. I have waited a long time for this."  
  
Legolas shivered. With all his strength, he fought the urge to dodge, to simply throw his attacker off the tree.   
  
'I can't!' The thought was numbing, cold as ice. _'I can't! Others will have to pay for it if I resist. I can't...'_ But his skin crawled with disgust, and it took effort to remain compliant under Haldir's touches.  
  
Haldir felt his shuddering and smirked. The Marchwarden's left hand sneaked out and stroke over Legolas' chest, down between his thighs, fondling and squeezing. He brought his mouth close to Legolas' ear.   
  
"You have no idea how long I have waited for an opportunity like this, how long I have desired another chance to taste you. I am sure I will thoroughly enjoy it. So will my brothers. You will serve all three of us, tonight."  
  
Legolas gasped. The hand between his thighs seemed to burn. The grasp around his hair forced his head back, keeping him bent backwards and vulnerable. He fought to keep himself still, to endure the touches.   
  
_Strange hands on him, not the ones of his master... Being used like a tool, by whoever came to call, again..._

_**It is just for a few days!'**_ his mind yelled at him. _**'Just for a few days! You can do this!'**  
  
Besides, that was hardly the first time he had endured this. Nor would it be the last. It should not bother him so much.   
  
What was wrong with him?!_  
  
Mustering all his strength, he managed to stand still, to keep silent.  
  
Haldir's teeth briefly grazed his ear, then the Marchwarden abruptly let him go and stepped back. "Now go inside! There is a washstand in the other room. I expect you to undress and prepare yourself. We do not wish to enjoy you while you still reek from days of traveling and battle!"  
  
He gave Legolas a quick shove towards the door, then turned to lighten a lantern – one of these strange, but elegant lanterns Legolas had seen already at the guarding platform where the Fellowship had found shelter.  
  
Without a further word, Legolas obeyed.  
  
The hut was formed like a great oval and held three rooms, all settled round the big trunk of the tree. The entrance room was small and held several barrels and chests set against the walls. Full water skins and one half of a dried and smoked venison hung from hooks on one side. The other side held tools like rope and axes, some clothes and a stack with wooden plates and cups. A few more lanterns, ready to use, as well as three stacks of arrows, completed the interior. The window in the outside wall was rather small. The other rooms were more spacious and had big windows which could be closed with leather drapes. Furs and fresh ferns formed a place to rest on the floor near the outside walls. Three more chests stood near the wall.  
  
In the third room, farthest from the entrance, Legolas found the washstand, as well as a suspicious construction of two poles, supporting a bar between them. There were some hooks set in these poles, and more hooks on one of the walls held leather cuffs, some rope, and a slender whip.  
  
Legolas shuddered. Bowing his head, he got rid of his harness with his bow, knives and his empty quiver and proceeded to obey Haldir's command.  
  
  
____________________ o ________________

.

Legolas knelt on he floor, head bowed, shivering in the cool night air. The thin garment Haldir had given him – a wide robe that fell loosely around him and could be easily discarded at need – provided little warmth. It was not made to give protection, but to provide easy access to his body... he shuddered again. The robe was all too familiar to him, bringing to mind old memories he had tried to avoid. His mind shirked away from what was to happen this night. Coldness filled him, eating at his thoughts, leaving him numb. More than the temperature of the room, this inner coldness made him freeze, spreading through him, stealing away all warmth...  
  
Images sprang out at him. _**The mad flight through the mines of Moria, his master on the breaking pillar, without hope... Gandalf, standing out like a white star against the overwhelming power of the balrog, falling, the Fellowship fleeing, arrows raining down at them from all sides... The images changed. His own impatience the night before, when he had asked Gandalf to break the curse, and his shock when suddenly, amidst the exploration of the wizard, he had felt the dark power of that outer darkness stirring, surging, searching for them – Gandalf's shock when he broke the connection, mirroring his own...**_  
  
Shame surged through him like a blade. He slumped a little, bowing his head deeper. _If with this night, he could pay for that... if he could buy the Fellowship safe passage..._  
  
And yet. Other images filled him, of times long past. _**A tent. A chain of steel. Guards at the tent flap. And an endless stream of strangers, leering at him, using his body, forcing him to please them, to obey...  
  
A girl, shivering in fear, screaming, bleeding, mutilated – and Elrond's voice, telling him that it was his deeds that had brought this down on her, his act of rebellion, his disobeying...**_  
  
His mind screamed and tried to shut out the images, but they were persistent. _**Hands... hands on his body...**_  
  
Steps intruded in his thoughts, and he dared to raise his head. He heard the door to the hut open, and someone entered the anteroom, rummaging shortly, then entering the second. A moment later, the door opened again, and a second intruder stepped in, but this one seemed to keep back, as if hesitant of further progress.   
  
Haldir's voice drifted over to him from the other room.  
  
"Ah, there you are. You are late; I expected you back, sooner."  
  
"The fleeing Orcs were cunning. They separated and spread out, to make it harder to track them down. But we have found and slain them all, I think."  
  
The voice of the other Elf sounded vaguely familiar to Legolas, but he could not place it. One of Haldir's brothers? Probably, but it had been so very long since he had met them. What had been their names again? Oromir? Ru-  
  
"Haldir, Rumil is very bad, again. I think-"  
  
"I know. I will take care of him, tonight." Haldir said sharply. "But first, I have a gift for him and you."  
  
There was a pause, then the other Elf took a step closer to the room where Legolas knelt. Legolas did not dare to look up at him. "A Mirkwood slave? Isn't that Aragorn's slave? Thranduil's youngest?"  
  
The footsteps retreated. "You did it then? I thought that bargain was a joke! Haldir-"  
  
"Daro!" Haldir's voice was like a whip. "You know how long I wanted a share of him again," he added then, more calmly. "And it has been too long since we had fun together. This is a chance to have a bit of pleasure. For all of us." The last was spoken to the door.  
  
Legolas risked a peek into the other room. From the place where he knelt, he could see both Haldir and the stranger. He looked vaguely familiar, and bore great similarity to Haldir. One of his brothers?  
  
The other Elf hesitated. "Haldir-" but he did not continue. A movement at the door caught his attention. He trailed off.  
  
A third Elf entered the other room, and came in Legolas' line of view. He bore great similarity to Haldir and the other one, but he moved slowly, hesitant, and his shoulders were slumped. His eyes flickered from place to place. Legolas was reminded of a small animal entering a glade.  
  
Haldir's face softened. "Rumil! Come here! Look what gift I brought us home, tonight!"  
  
Rumil shivered. He looked at Legolas, fear and disgust warring in his face. Still, he came steadily closer, as if drawn by a beacon.  
  
He crossed the distance, until he was only a step away, then he stopped. His gaze wandered over Legolas' body, then it moved to the handcuffs and the whip. His tongue flicked out over his lips. He swallowed.  
  
Legolas shuddered again. Rumil's gaze seemed to burn his skin. And the toys... He cast his eyes down and tried to steel himself.  
  
Rumil turned around again, his voice raw with need. "Haldir..."  
  
Legolas could not help himself; he looked up again. Haldir stood waiting by the door. His face was clouded.  
  
"Later, Rumil. First, I want you to enjoy my gift. This slave is ours, for tonight, and the nights afterwards. We will enjoy him until we reach Caras Galadhon. And he will serve all of us, together. How long has it been since you last had one of these?"  
  
Rumil swallowed and turned back to Legolas. Legolas shuddered under his gaze.  
  
The third Elf shook his head. "Haldir-"  
  
Haldir whirled around. "Enough, Orophin! You may partake, or choose to stay away; but I will not suffer your interfering!" he said. "I have waited for a chance like this."  
  
Rumil cringed. Orophin gave them both a skeptical look. Haldir took a breath.  
  
"Look, why don't you prepare the meal, so Rumil can ready himself? There is no need for us to squabble. We -"  
  
He trailed off. While he spoke, Rumil had turned around again and taken another step forward, closing the distance.   
  
His hand reached out and tentatively stroked through Legolas' hair. Legolas shivered. The touch felt clumsy, hesitant; the hand touching him trembled. Then the grip tightened, grew possessive. The other hand joined the first, stroked over his head, his face. Rumil's breath quickened, grew labored.  
  
Legolas shut his eyes. He tried to tune the touches out, to concentrate on something else, but he couldn't. Bile rose in his throat. With all his willpower he fought against the urge to jump up, to fight, to run away...  
  
Suddenly, the hands were gone. Rumil made a half-quelled sound of protest, like a whimper. Legolas dared to open his eyes again. Haldir stood beside him, grasping Rumil's wrists.  
  
"Go and wash yourself, first, brother," Haldir said. "We won't take our pleasure still reeking of battle. Meanwhile Orophin will prepare the meal. We will get back to this after we have eaten."  
  
Rumil cringed and ducked, as if expecting a blow, and for a moment, a shadow flickered over Haldir's face, but as quickly, it was gone again.  
  
"Go, wash and change," he said. "This slave will not go anywhere. He will be there for us, all night. There will be plenty of time to take care of your needs, later."  
  
And with that, he let go of Rumil's wrists and gave him a small shove in the direction of the wash stand.  
Rumil obeyed. Haldir's gaze followed him. For a moment, Legolas saw his face darken again, before Haldir schooled it into his usual, haughty expression.  
  
Legolas quickly lowered his eyes, again. He did not know what to make of the behavior of his captors, and he did not dare to ask. Besides, it hardly mattered for his situation...  
  
Haldir's hand grasped his hair, forcing his head back. For a moment, he met the Marchwarden's hard, glittering eyes.  
  
"Do not worry, Mirkwood spawn," the Lothlorien Elf said. "We will get back to you, soon enough. We will enjoy your services all night. Never doubt that."  
  
And with that, he let him go. Legolas lowered his head again and closed his eyes. He tried to shut out his hearing, shut out his other senses, shut out everything, but it did not work. Biting his lips, he waited for his masters to choose when to take their pleasure.  
  
  
___________ o ____________

.

The meal was short and quiet. The three brothers took it in the other room, and Legolas, left in his place, did not follow their conversation. He knelt, head bowed, trying to shut everything out. Tried not to think, not to feel... not to hear...  
  
Suddenly, a plate and a cup appeared in front of him, and he looked up.   
  
"Eat and drink," Orophin said quietly, "you need your strength."  
  
Legolas stared at him, uncomprehending. He had not heard his steps, had barely registered somebody was moving.  
  
Orophin rose again. For a moment, a warm hand brushed over Legolas' shoulder, then the other Elf was gone again and returned to the others.   
  
Legolas stared after him, then down at the plate. Dried venison, bread, a few berries, a cup of water... He fought down the bile. He did not feel like eating. In fact, his stomach rebelled at the mere thought. He had not eaten all day; even the short rest before they entered the woods, he had spent on guard, refusing any food. And yet, he barely registered his empty stomach. But he did not know when he would get something to eat or drink again. So he reached for the cup and drank thirstily. Then he tried a bite of venison.  
  
He had not realized how hungry he had been. Quickly, the meat and bread were gone. He swallowed. He had not meant to eat so much. How could he kneel here and eat, when --   
  
The plate was taken away. He looked up into the smirking face of Haldir.  
  
"Now it is time for our dessert," the Marchwarden said. "You will serve us well, will you not?" He turned around.  
  
"Rumil, come here. Orophin, take care of the plates, please. You may join us later."  
  
Legolas saw Rumil clumsily rising and slowly coming over. He shivered.  
  
  
________________ o ________________

.

The following hours were like a blur. Legolas had no clear account of what happened to him, and by whom; he did not pay attention. All the knew were hands, hands on his body, touching, stroking, gripping – Rumil's clumsiness, then his increasing need, Haldir's hard grip and demanding voice, accompanied by a surprising expertise at the ways to set Legolas' body aflame and elicit responses even against his will; teeth, lips and tongue grating over his skin, fingers, entering his body, widening him, preparing...  
  
Then came the pain, flesh invading his flesh, impaling him, first rough, then surprisingly gentle; another pair of arms, capturing him, holding him tight, while he was taken... He heard whimpering and harsh voices, at some point, but did not really know if the whimper had come from himself. He felt his head pushed down on someone's lifeless flesh, and for a moment, he was confused. _**This was not his master. What -**_  
  
"Go on, please him! Give him what he need!" a harsh voice hissed in his ear, and he started to follow the command, but the other man's flesh would not respond, and he heard crying. He was beaten, then shoved aside, and heard soft, encouraging words from the one who still held him. Then he was entered again, rough and punishing, and he whimpered in pain.  
  
He heard an encouraging voice, but it was not his master's. He tried to retreat, to flee back into himself. To shut out what happened with his body. Images sprang up at him, from long ago. _Hands on his body, flesh entering his flesh, his mouth, forcing him to lick, to suck, making him gag... hands fondling his maleness, forcing his traitorous body to respond... toys, leering gazes... an endless row of strangers, taking, forcing, using..._  
  
It was too much. He tried to get away, tried to escape, to retreat, further, further... there had to be a place where nobody could touch him, no one could reach him anymore...  
  
Blue, icy light sprang up in front of him, and he felt himself yanked back into his flesh. He cried out in pain and in frustration, but all he could hear was a whimper. White light appeared before his eyes, mingling with the blue, both icy cold.  
  
_**'Not yet, Mirkwood prince,'**_ a cold voice said, _**'you do not escape from your fate that easily!'**_  
  
And with that, he was thrown back, and lost all conscious awareness of himself.  
  
He barely registered when it was over, and gentle hands helped him up and guided him to the next room. He noticed he was set down on a fur, covered with a blanket; noticed at some point he was washed and encouraged by a soothing voice. Confused he asked: "My Lord? Glorfindel?"   
  
The voice answering him was gentle. "No. I'm Orophin. You did well. Sleep now."  
  
He did not find the strength to think about the answer, or ask questions. Completely exhausted, he drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
___________________ o _________________

.

Legolas woke from the sound of a whip.   
  
He curled, his body reacting on its own, but the pain did not come. He heard the sharp impact of leather on flesh, and a muffled cry. Cold sweat breaking from his skin, he shot up to his knees, wildly looking around. _Who was it who had to pay for his sins this time? Who--?_  
  
The _talan_ around him was dark and silent. The room in which he crouched was empty. The furs beside his own were cold. Orophin and the others were nowhere to be seen. There was a thin trickle of light coming through a leather curtain at the door to the third room, a curtain he had not noticed the evening before. He could hear muffled crying from the other room, and a harsh voice he identified with Haldir, hissing: _"Be quiet! You brought this on yourself!"_  
  
Again, the sharp hiss of a whip, the impact on the flesh, and a muffled cry. Then muffled sobs, quieter now, but not entirely stifled  
  
Panic made Legolas skin crawl. He could not fathom what he had done wrong, what would have caused Haldir to punish one of the hostages in his stead. And yet... Then, rational thought set in.   
  
_If this was meant to be a punishment to him, it would be done in his presence, would it not? So, what...?_  
  
Carefully creeping closer, he closed the distance to the leather curtain, taking care to make no noise. There was a part where the leather not completely fitted the opening of the door, and where the light got through. Careful to stay as much in the shadow as he could, he pressed himself against the floor, and dared a peek.  
  
On the floor in the other room knelt an Elf. His back was bare, and sported several angry welts. His arms were tied to the wooden frame, and his face was hidden from Legolas' view. He shivered and cringed under the pain, and his muffled sobs came from under a curtain of his hair.   
  
It was Rumil.  
  
Behind him stood Haldir, who just in this moment raised the whip and brought it down again. Rumil cried out, then he sobbed some more. Haldir hissed at him.   
  
"Quiet! I told you to be quiet! Master yourself, or I will stop this now!" He made a sharp move with his head towards the closed curtain. "We do not wish to wake our guest, do we?! Or do you wish him to see this?"  
  
Rumil gasped. There was another sob, and then a whispered: "No! No, please. No..."  
  
The whip parted the air again. A cry, then Haldir delivered another blow, and then another.  
  
Legolas drew back into the dark.   
  
For moments, he could not move, too stunned by the scene he had just watched. He heard the whip descend again, and again, until he lost count. Heard Haldir's angry voice, now too quiet to identify his words clearly, heard Rumil's sobs of pain, and his pitiful pleas – if he was begging for more punishment, or less, Legolas could not say. The one thing he knew for sure was that he could not afford for Haldir to find out that he had witnessed the strange scene.  
  
Taking care to move as noiselessly as he could, he made it back to his fur again. There, he curled in on himself and stared into the dark, trying in vain to still his racing mind.  
  
He tried to think, tried to understand what he'd seen, but it was just too much. He could not make any sense of it. And the noise of the descending whip intruded in his mind, and made him shiver.  
  
Finally, after a long time, the noise stopped. Legolas burrowed deeper under his fur and tried to breathe slowly and deeply, as in sleep.   
  
The light went out. The curtain moved, then steps came closer and someone lay down on one of the free furs. Legolas did not dare to look, but he recognized the smell. It was Haldir.  
  
Legolas cringed. He did not dare to move, did not dare to give any hint he was awake. But he could not close his ears, could not miss the faint noise coming from Haldir's furs.   
  
Haldir was crying.   
  
Legolas did not move. He did his best to stay unnoticed. He stared out into the night until finally, exhaustion won over his racing mind, and he drifted off to sleep again.  
  
  
_______________ o ________________  
  
  
  
\-- TBC --


	51. Into the Wood

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found here: <http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373>  
  
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful Nancy and the most generous and always encouraging Randy! In addition, my thanks go to Lethe and to the kind people at Lizard's Council. Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: Implied Non-con and gang-rape. Please heed the warnings!  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
 _// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********;_ "speech"; _'thoughts'_

For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  
  
**XLIX. Into The Wood**  
  
  
Sam was awakened by a quiet noise. He started and lifted his head; he had not even noticed that he had nodded off. He sent a quick look to the edge of the platform – his stomach churned at the slight trembling of the wood under him, and at the black abyss that loomed beyond. How could Elves feel comfortable here, so far above the ground? But that was not what had woken him.  
  
He looked around and saw Aragorn passing over to the place where he and Legolas had left their packs and bedrolls.

Aragorn's face was stern and betrayed no emotion. He was alone. Without a word or any look around, he bent down, took his pack, unrolled his bedroll and made as if to settle down.  
  
Sam swallowed. Beside him, Frodo's head came up, and on Frodo's left, Merry and Pippin sat up. They shared a concerned look. Then Pippin blurted out: "Where's Legolas?"  
  
Aragorn did not turn around. Pippin paled. After a moment, he asked hesitantly: "Is he -?"  
  
Beside him, Merry drew his brows together. Boromir's face darkened.  
  
Aragorn did not answer. After a moment, Gimli asked: "What about the Orcs? Did you get them?"  
  
Aragorn cast him a short look. "Yes."  
  
"And Legolas? Is he hurt?" Pippin persisted. He received an elbow to the ribs from Merry, but he did not stop. "Is he -"  
  
"No," Aragorn replied. His face was set in stone.  
  
"Then where is he?" Boromir asked in a tone that bore no deflection.  
  
Frodo moved. He sat up, and his face grew troubled. "You – you left him with..." He trailed off.   
  
Aragorn looked at him, face laced in pain, but before he could answer, Boromir was on his feet and tore into him.   
  
"He is with Haldir, is he not?" he hissed. "You left him with that arrogant Elf! How could you do that?"  
  
In an instant, Aragorn drew close to him and grabbed his jerkin. "Keep your voice down," he hissed back. "I do not know how many of these guards here understand Westron! You _do_ realize the keenness of Elven ears, do you not?"  
  
Boromir did not budge. His voice was grim and full of heat, and it betrayed his disgust. "You sold him out, did you not?" he growled. "You traded him for entrance into these woods."  
  
Aragorn ground his teeth. "No, I did not sell him out," he said quietly. "He offered himself. Haldir would not let us in, and would not accept any other price. And Legolas did not wish to risk the lives of the Hobbits." He shook his head. "He knew the Orcs were close, and sensed their number. I've seen them, Boromir. They were too many for us to take on alone. We would not have lasted the night."  
  
Boromir pushed him away. His hands wandered down to his sword. "And so, you simply let him take the brunt and traded him off?" he asked with disbelief. "Is that how you deal with those under your command, Dúnadan?"  
  
Suddenly, Aragorn was close to him again, nearly nose to nose. "Mind your tongue, Boromir, if you wish to keep it," he snarled. "You were quick enough to demand your share when it was your turn." His voice was cold and low, and held an edge sharp enough to cut glass. "I do not think that you are in any position to take me to task here."  
  
He pushed the Gondorian away and looked around. His eyes fell on the frozen expressions of the Hobbits.  
  
Sam felt heat growing in his own face. His fists were balled at his sides, and he had a hard time finding his breath. Looking to his master, he saw Frodo's pale, white face. Beside him, Merry and Pippin wore expressions of horror and disgust.  
  
Aragorn bit his lips and turned back to Boromir.  
  
"What would you have me do?" he asked, his voice low. "We are in the realm of the Lady of the Wood, remember? If we rebel, if _I_ rebel, not only Legolas himself will have to pay, but also his people. There are other hostages here. Have you forgotten all he told you, already? Have you forgotten what I said to you? It was his choice! I would have dared the night outside the woods. But he knew that we could not risk it. Do you think I like this any better than you do?"  
  
"You were ready enough to lend him out before," Sam heard his own voice. He was shocked, but at the same time too angry to care. Aragorn turned to him and gave him an irritated look. Sam flustered. "Well, you were," he said.  
  
Aragorn drew a breath, but before he could reply, Boromir added: "I thought he was under your command?"

Aragorn took a deep breath. "He is," he said, "but that does not mean that I ignore his counsel. Legolas' senses are quite keen. And he was right."  
  
"We faced those Wargs back in Eriador unaided," Gimli threw in.   
  
Aragorn shot him a look. "We had Gandalf with us, then," he said.  
  
Silence answered him. Even Sam felt unable to muster a reply. At his side, he could hear Frodo draw a sharp breath.

"So, how long will he be there?" Gimli finally drawled.  
  
Aragorn looked back at him. "Three nights, at least," he said. "Until we all reach Caras Galadhon. That was the bargain." He bit his lips. "Believe me that I do not like this any more than you. It was not my choice. I tried to fend it off. But for the moment, we can do naught but play along, as bitter as this is."  
  
Boromir stared at him. "When all this is over," he said slowly, "and if we all survive this quest, believe me that you will _not_ be my lord. And if it is the last thing I do, I will make sure that you will not reclaim the throne of Gondor."

And with that he turned away.   
  
Aragorn said nothing. He bowed his head and turned back to his pack. Without another word he rolled himself into his bedroll.   
  
Slowly, the others followed. Gimli was the first to turn to his own blanket. Merry and Pippin settled down, but Sam could still hear them whispering in a heated discussion. Boromir stood at the edge of the flet and stared out into the night, wearing a grim expression.  
  
Sam settled down. It took a long time to calm his blood, and he could not help but turn to his master. "This is a fine pickle we have landed ourselves in," he said. "Poor Master Legolas. I cannot believe that excuse for a Ranger would do that to him." He paused when he saw Frodo's pained expression.  
  
"Don't judge him too harshly," Frodo whispered.  
  
Sam stared at him. "But, Frodo, you can't mean--" Frodo's expression gave him pause, and he trailed off.   
  
Frodo shook his head. "I do not understand much of the dialect they speak," he said quietly, "and most of it made little sense to me, until now. But if I understood correctly, Aragorn indeed tried to fend off Haldir."  
  
"Well, seems he was not trying very hard, was he?" Sam snapped.  
  
But Frodo only shook his head again. "I am not sure of that. If I understood correctly..." he trailed off. After a moment, he whispered: "It sounded to me as if he even offered himself." He turned away. "Just so they could protect us. Protect me." He shuddered. "I do not know how I could ever bear something like that."  
  
With that, he huddled himself deeper under his blanket and fell silent.  
  
Sam shuddered. He did not know what to reply to that.  
  
  
______________ o _________________  
  
  
  
Legolas was awakened by a gentle shake. Light seeped into his consciousness. It was day, already?! He rolled around, half expecting a blow, and looked up into the friendly face of Orophin.  
  
"Good morning!" the Lothlorien Elf said, "You must get up. It's past dawn, and we will move on soon."  
  
Legolas looked around. The furs beside his own were gone, and the leather blinds which had covered the windows last night were rolled up, now. Haldir and Rúmil were nowhere to be seen, although the curtain to the third room was still down. Rising quickly, he found his clothes folded neatly lying at his side. His gear and weapons lay beside them, including his filled quiver. He gave Orophin a puzzled look.  
  
"I brought your arrows," Orophin said by way of explanation.   
  
Legolas looked at him, dumbfounded. "You went out last night, to..."  
  
Orophin shook his head. "No. The Elves who took care of the fallen Orcs retrieved them. They gathered all arrows still fit to be used. Yours have different fletching." He smiled. "I just thought you could use them. You killed a great number of Orcs last night."  
  
Legolas nodded. He was at a loss how to reply. "Thank you," he finally managed. He reached for his clothes.  
  
Suddenly, Orophin's head shot up, and he turned to the door. Then, Legolas heard it, too. Steps, entering the platform of the _talan_ ; several feet, if he was not mistaken.  
  
Orophin turned back to him. "Quick, get dressed! These are not my brothers. We have company!"  
  
Legolas obeyed without question. With quick, secure moves, he donned his clothes, leaving his gear aside for the moment.  
  
The door opened. A group of Elves entered, led by the officer Legolas had seen leading the guards who had escorted Aragorn the night before. Behind him, several other guards followed.  
  
The officer stopped a few paces away and gave Legolas and Orophin a leering gaze. "Greetings, Orophin," he said. "I see you had your fun already with this slave Haldir took from the Dúnadan last night. In fact, that is what I am here to discuss with your brother. Where is he?"   
  
Orophin rose up, his face stormy. "What do you want now, Saeron?"  
  
The officer smirked at him, but before he could reply, someone said: "Hold!"   
  
Legolas looked around. The curtain at the back of the room parted and Haldir stepped in, Rúmil on his heels. While Rúmil still looked nervous, Haldir gave no such impression. His face was haughty and unreadable. "Well met, Saeron," he said. "I thought you were at the _talan_ with our guests. What do you want?"  
  
The officer gave him a challenging look. "I came for a part of the bargain you made with the Dúnadan. That Mirkwood slave is exquisite. He should earn his keep, and the protection of his company, by serving more of us, not merely you and your brothers. I came to claim my share." He nodded at the guards behind him. "And that of my men," he added.  
  
While he spoke, Saeron sized Legolas up with a short, suggestive gaze, then raised his eyes back to Haldir. Legolas cringed inwardly at his words, but he knew better than to show any reaction. He could not entirely suppress his shiver, though.  
  
Saeron saw it and smiled. Legolas did his best to calm himself. He looked back at Haldir.  
  
Haldir raised a brow. "That bargain was mine to make," he said calmly, "mine and my brothers. Whatever gave you the impression you would get a share of it? If you need the service of a Mirkwood hostage, I am sure there are a few others around for you to use. Merillas is lovely and might be shared by her master. A few others should be close by, too."  
  
Saeron smirked. "You know as well as I that Orthadir will not share Merillas for anything," he said, "and Nimrildir is wounded, though his master owes me. Sûlros... is not here, anymore." A brief shadow flew over his face, too quickly gone to read it correctly. Without pause, he continued: "You know what happened to him. In any case, it has been a long time since we had a new slave at our bidding. A warrior grows lonely in his nights." The challenge in his eyes deepened. "It is not fair that you should take your pleasure while we have to listen and envy. You ought to share! Especially since it is well known what kind of preferences his master has. This slave is used to harsher handling."  
  
At Legolas' side, Orophin balled his fists and readied his stance. Haldir's face had closed and turned to stone while Legolas watched. Rúmil, hiding behind Haldir's back, had turned pale. He stared at the officer and swallowed.  
  
Saeron saw it and smiled darkly. "Or maybe I should ask instead for your brother Rúmil," he said. "He should be ready for some rough play again soon, should he not?"  
  
Rúmil cringed. Legolas felt his own eyes widen and watched him slink further back into the other room, but more than anything, he was struck by the expression on Rúmil's face. Among the horror and disgust, he could read desperate desire – and NEED.  
  
He could not believe what he was seeing.  
  
_It could not be. Rúmil was free, he was no slave, he was one of Haldir's brothers. He could not be under the spell, could not --_  
  
Haldir was moving. Fast as lightning, he closed the distance to the officer and struck him, a full blow to the face. Saeron flew through the room and crashed down on the floor, the whole _talan_ shuddering under the impact. Haldir was over him in a moment, grabbing the fallen officer's shirt and half lifting him from the floor. "Listen," he hissed, "you keep your hands off my brother, or I WILL kill you! Slowly. You will leave him alone, and neither will you have a share of this slave. I do not want to see you so much as look at him! He's mine for the time being, to do with him as I please, and if I see you lay a hand on him, I will make sure you lose it."  
  
Saeron cringed under Haldir's grip. His face was defiant. Blood spurted from his broken nose, and his teeth were gritted. With a quick move, he broke Haldir's grip and pushed him away. He rolled back and regained his footing, nursing his bleeding nose with one hand. The other hand was balled into a fist. His eyes glared. "The Lady will hear about this!" he growled.  
  
Haldir straightened, his face cold and unyielding. "Just as well. Run off to her and complain. But as long as you serve under my command, you will follow my orders, and you will keep your hands off my family." He gave him a sharp nod. "Now, back to your post. You will stay here to guard the borders, while I accompany our guests to Caras Galadhon."   
  
Saeron gave him a look of pure hatred, but he noticed that he stood alone. The other guards had taken a step away from him and left him exposed. So, he merely spat on the floor and turned, and a moment later, he was gone. The other guards hesitated.  
  
Haldir rounded on them. "What are you waiting for? Back to your posts! We will break camp and march off to Caras Galadhon within the hour!"  
  
The guard standing closest to him bowed and left the _talan_. The others followed. As soon as the door closed behind them, Haldir turned to Legolas. He gripped his shirt, hard.  
  
"Not a word to anyone about what happened here, Mirkwood slave!" he hissed. "Do you hear me? You will speak to nobody about this! Especially not to your master! If you do, you WILL regret it!"  
  
Legolas did not know what to say. He swallowed.  
  
Haldir glared at him. "If I hear one word – one single word – by anyone who was not here about this, I will make sure that you _will_ regret it. And so will any other hostage I can get my hands on. And if you tell it to your master, I will make sure he cannot share it further. Do you understand?"  
  
Legolas felt the blood drain from his face. He nodded. "I understand," he whispered.  
  
"You will keep silent! Swear it!"  
  
"I swear," Legolas said. "I shall not speak about what happened here to the Fellowship, or to my master."  
  
Haldir let him go. "Good. Now, don your weapons. We will leave in a moment.  
  
Legolas obeyed without another word.  
  
  
__________________ o _________________  
  
  
  
The way down the Tree seemed endless. Legolas concentrated carefully on his hands and feet. He did not dare let his gaze wander; the beauty of the sun-filled forest was lost to him. Only once in a while he dared to cast a quick look up to Rúmil, who climbed down above him, or to Orophin, who came last on the stepladder. Whenever he looked up, Rúmil kept his eyes on his hands. He seemed shrunken. On the other hand, Orophin rarely let his eyes wander off his brother.  
  
Legolas looked back at his own hands. He did not dare to look down to Haldir. What if the Marchwarden changed his mind? What if he handed him over to Saeron? The mere thought made bile rise in his stomach, and he tried to stop thinking about it.  
  
Finally he reached the ground. The forest around him was silent. Haldir stood nearby, but Legolas could not see any of the other Elves. He stepped away from the tree trunk to make room for Rúmil and Orophin. It took a while; the stepladder was hauled up and Legolas assumed they secured it in a convenient place further up the tree.  
  
Suddenly, he felt a rough grip in his hair, pulling him back. Haldir stood behind him, forcing him to bend back, speaking directly in his ear. "You did amiably, last night," the Marchwarden said. "Very sweet! I look forward to the next few days I will have you. It will take some time to get to Caras Galadhon. And who knows? Maybe the Lady will be so displeased with Aragorn, that she will decide to give you to me. You would like that, would you not? You were that eager to offer yourself – one might think you have tired by now of that Ranger. I bet he could be persuaded to extend the spell to me. Wouldn't you like that?"  
  
His hand sneaked around and found Legolas' crotch. He squeezed.  
  
Legolas shivered. He suppressed a gasp and forced himself to stand perfectly still. The harsh grip to his maleness hurt, but even more he feared Haldir's claims might be true. What if the Lady decided to give him to Haldir permanently as punishment for his insolent wish to be free? What if she decided that Estel could no longer trusted to keep him in his place? And had not Aragorn brought him here in part to search an Elven master for him who could keep him alive after Aragorn was gone? What if he gave him to Haldir? Estel could never bear the thought that once he was gone, Legolas would die. What if he decided that Haldir was their best choice?  
  
And Haldir was right – he *had* offered himself. Had done so even against the wishes of his master. What if Aragorn did not want him anymore? And what if he didn't? It would be nothing more than Legolas deserved. This was his place, this was what he was good for, and what he owed – to be used in any way his masters wished. And yet – an endless row of nights like the last, again and again, being used like a thing, whenever it struck Haldir's fancy... and maybe, once Haldir lost interest, he would then be lend out to the other guards, like a trophy, again... He swallowed a sob. Well, it was not his choice to make. Whatever happened, his part was merely to obey.   
  
Haldir gave his crotch a last squeeze and let go of his hair. "What a good little slave," he observed, "I look forward to the next few nights." And with that he stepped away. Legolas could see his grin. It seemed wolfish.  
  
Then, finally, Rúmil and Orophin reached the ground, and Haldir turned to them. "There you are," he remarked. "That took a while." He turned around. "Let's go – it is a long walk to Caras Galadhon."  
  
The other two did not answer, but simply nodded. Haldir moved on without another word. While Legolas followed him, he felt the prickling of hidden eyes on his back.  
  
  
_____________ o _____________  
  
  
  
Aragorn studied the ground at his feet. It was better than looking at his companions; the four Hobbits and Boromir treated him with baleful glares, whenever he dared to lift his eyes in their direction. And Gimli... he could feel the glare of the Dwarf like a hot iron in his back. He fidgeted, casting an uncomfortable gaze at the six Elven warriors surrounding them. The guard who kept him company had told him that such strong security was needed due to the several Orcs that had escaped last night, but Aragorn suspected they had more to do with his persistent protests. He bit his lips and fought against the bile residing in his throat. _Little Leaf..._.  
  
A hiss from Boromir alarmed him, and the quiet chatter of Merry, Pippin and Sam suddenly ceased. He looked up.  
  
There stood his slave, pale, slumped, carefully looking down. Aragorn could see no injuries on him, but still Legolas looked the worse for wear. Aragorn took a quick step in his direction, tried to catch his gaze, but as if on command one of the guards placed at his side stepped up and in his way. He glared at the man and tried to sidestep him, but was stopped by the guard at his left. In the same moment, Haldir stepped forward and smiled at him.  
  
"I hope you had a pleasant night. Today, we will be on our march to the Lady. I trust that you and your companions will respect our rules," he said coolly in Westron. "These woods are dangerous for strangers to our lands and customs. We fought a large company of Orcs last night, who followed you into these woods. We cannot guarantee your safety if you stray off the path or break our agreements."  
  
As he spoke, he directed a brief glance upward to the trees surrounding them. Aragorn followed his gaze, and felt a shiver down his spine. He spied two Elves with bows up in the branches. He did not doubt that there were more he did not see.   
  
With a deadly glare at Haldir, he nodded. "We thank you for your hospitality and will accept your rules," he said. He felt as if he was choking on the words, and his voice sounded like gravel even to himself. But what choice did he have? His gaze fixed upon Legolas. "Little Leaf..." he whispered.  
  
Legolas raised his head to give him a brief glance, but then he quickly looked away and down again. Aragorn frowned. He took another step in Legolas' direction, but was stopped again by the guard who blocked his way. Fuming inwardly, he stayed where he was.  
  
Boromir, standing close beside him, had no such qualms. Quickly, he sidestepped the Elven guard and took a step in Legolas' direction. "Are you well?" he asked, "What did they do to you?"  
  
But Legolas did not answer. Aragorn saw him cringe and bow his head even more. Legolas cast a quick look at the Dwarf – and to Aragorn's surprise, Gimli shortly shook his head and nodded to the Hobbits. Legolas looked at Aragorn. His gaze seemed troubled, and Aragorn quickly repeated Gimli's gesture and then spread his hands. He saw Legolas swallow and look down again.   
  
Boromir seemed oblivious to that exchange. Since he got no answer from his quarry, he turned to Haldir himself. "What did you do to him?!" he demanded.  
  
Haldir narrowed his eyes and subtly changed his stance. His hand moved in the direction of his knife.  
  
Aragorn knew he had to intervene. "Boromir!" he said. The Gondorian warrior turned to him, ready for an attack. Aragorn hid his concern and just nodded pointedly in the direction of the two visible bowmen. "Peace! We are under the protection of the warriors of Lothlorien," he said. "We can't afford a fight." He nodded nearly imperceptibly at Frodo, who stood a step apart, gazing at Legolas with a troubled expression.   
  
Boromir followed his gaze and made a face. His mouth formed a thin line, and his jaw was set, but he stood down.  
  
Haldir smiled. "That is settled, then. Follow me," he said, and turned to depart.   
  
Two of his guards stepped up to Aragorn and closed him off from any way to walk the few steps to his slave without a fight. They did not say a word, but he was sure that they had clear instructions. He had no choice but to follow Haldir. Still, he hesitated while he left the glade, and kept an eye on Boromir and Gimli. After a moment, Boromir, with a last concerned glance at Legolas, turned around and followed Haldir. He, too, was immediately joined by two guards. But Gimli stood a moment longer, arms crossed, looking at Legolas; then he turned, and his gaze seemed ready to burn holes in Haldir's back. But finally, he started to walk.  
  
So did the Hobbits. Legolas was the last in the row, flanked by two of the Elves with whom he had arrived. Aragorn recognized them as Haldir's brothers.  
  
During the walk, the guards took special care to keep the warriors of the Fellowship separate and did not allow them to change their place in the line. They did not seem to care about the Hobbits, though. To Aragorn's satisfaction, Merry, Pippin and Sam took full advantage of that fact and surrounded Legolas regardless of the guards at his side. Aragorn heard their concerned questions and chatter, and Legolas one-syllabled answers, too quiet for him to understand, but at least his slave was not alone. He breathed a little lighter.  
  
And yet... even across the distance, he could hear Legolas' reluctance to reply, could hear the subdued tone and avoidance in his voice. Guilt boiled in his stomach, and he had to fight against the urge to simply deck his guards and walk over to his slave. He knew for sure that if he dared to start a fight, they would all die, picked off one by one like game by the guards above; and even on the slim chance that they won, there were still the other hostages. If they started a fight, Legolas' kin would have to pay for it. If he risked harm to them, Legolas would never forgive him.  
  
_'Oh, my little Leaf!'_ he thought. _'I should never have listened to you! What have I done? What have I done?'_  
  
The one voice he could not hear among the Hobbits was that of Frodo. Looking back, he saw the Ring Bearer walking alone, a few feet in front of the others around Legolas, head bowed and shoulders slumped. One or two times, Frodo looked back to his cousins and the Elf, but then he quickly looked away and down again. His face was as troubled as Aragorn felt himself. Yet he did not speak and kept his solitude.  
  
Aragorn frowned, but he could not concentrate further on the Hobbit. His musing was interrupted by a change in the wood around them and the growing sound of a fast-flowing river. He knew his path again, now; they had returned to the shores of the Silverlode, and he could not distinguish the voices of the Hobbits anymore, nor could he discern Legolas' quiet answers.   
  
For a while, they followed the river southward, here and there discovering the prints of Orc feet in the ground; apparently, the previous night some of the Orcs indeed had come that far in their attempts to escape from the battle. But soon, Haldir turned aside from the path and led them down to the bank of the river.  
  
"The Silverlode is deep and cold, up here," he said, "and it moves swiftly. We cannot wade across, and there is no bridge. But we will cross it easily enough. Wait here!"  
  
He let out a whistle, much like a bird, and on the other river bank an Elf stepped out into the morning sun and looked at them. Haldir took a rope from his back pack and threw the bundle over the stream, keeping hold of one end. The Elf on the other side caught it and fastened his end around a tree. Haldir followed his example, stretching the rope tight over the river. He ran along it to the other side, exchanging a few words with the Elf beyond, and then ran back.  
  
Aragorn glared at him. "You can walk that road easily enough," he said, "as can Legolas, and maybe even I. But what of the others of our company? Do they have to swim?"  
  
Haldir looked at him with obvious amusement. "No. We have two more ropes, and will fasten them in appropriate height so your companions can cross over, too. Although they should take care not to fall off." And he let his gaze rest for a moment on the Dwarf. Gimli returned his gaze without a blink.  
  
Haldir shrugged. His eyes wandered over to the Hobbits and rested on Frodo. "But with care your companions should manage," he said, then nodded to one of his brothers to get to work.  
  
Soon, the three ropes were secured across the stream. Aragorn set out first. He did not risk walking the single rope free, as he had claimed. He had managed that trick before but with less baggage, and he did not wish to give Haldir any more reason to mock. He was glad when he arrived safely on the other side, and turned to watch the others crossing after him, Boromir gingerly and carefully, Sam nearly dropping from the rope a few times, and Merry and Pippin astonishingly sure-footed. Gimli surprised him; the Dwarf held the rope at his shoulder tightly, but his feet on the rope under him were sure and balanced. Aragorn wondered at that, then recalled that the Dwarves, as miners, had to cross a gap or two at times.  
  
Then came Legolas, and Aragorn's heart nearly skipped a beat. His usually nimble Elf, who would have run the rope with ease at other times, set his feet hesitantly and at one point nearly missed a step, having to grip the second rope tight not to fall into the stream below. Legolas caught his balance, stood for a moment and then quickly made his way over the remaining distance. When he had finally reached ground again, Aragorn ran to him; and this time, he did not allow himself to be detained.  
  
He grabbed Legolas arm. "Little Leaf!" he breathed. "What is it? Are you well?"  
  
Legolas looked up at him, eyes wide. Aragorn could not read the expression in his eyes, but his Elf seemed startled – and was there a glimpse of relief? But then, Legolas quickly looked away.  
  
"I am fine, my Lord, I just..."  
  
Then, Haldir was there.   
  
"You are clumsy these days, Mirkwood spawn," he said. "Such a pity, because I always thought you'd make a good warrior with the proper training."  
  
Aragorn turned to him, hand at his sword, but Haldir cut him off.  
  
"Be that as it may, we have no time for further talk. We need to get going, as the Lady will wish to see you and your company as soon as possible. And I am sure you will come peacefully, as we agreed?"  
  
He gave a quick look at the trees around them, and Aragorn fumed. He could not see any guards in those branches, but he was sure that they were there. Beside him, Legolas took a startled look at Haldir, then looked down again.  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. "Of course," he said. "Yet I wish to walk together with my slave. I missed him last night."  
  
Legolas shot him a quick, grateful glance, but Haldir shook his head.  
  
"You may not," he said in Silvan. "He is ours for the next three days. We have an agreement, remember?"   
  
And he gave a nod to his two brothers, who stepped up to take Legolas back into their midst. Aragorn opened his mouth to protest again, but Legolas spook up.  
  
"I am fine, my Lord," he said quietly. "Aragorn, I am fine."  
  
It did not sound convincing to Aragorn's ears, but Legolas gave an imperceptible nod at the trees around them, and so he subsided. "Just three days, Little Leaf," he breathed. "Be strong."  
  
Legolas looked down again, and did not answer.  
  
Haldir, on the other hand, stood unmoved as if he had not heard the exchange.  
  
They all stared at him – the Hobbits, Boromir, the Dwarf and Aragorn himself; all but Legolas, who kept his head bowed and looked at the ground. But while Boromir and the Hobbits directed glowering glances both at Haldir and at Aragorn, and one or another pained glance at Legolas, Gimli held his eyes firmly directed at Haldir, as if his gaze could burn him to the ground.  
  
The Marchwarden held his stare for one challenging moment, then he turned to the others of the Fellowship and returned their gaze. One after the other, they looked down and avoided his eyes. All except the Dwarf.   
  
Haldir returned Gimli's gaze for another heartbeat, then he broke the stare.   
  
"Now it is time to keep the other part of our agreement," he said. "It has been long since outsiders have set foot in our inner realm, and never was it trodden by a Dwarf. As we have agreed the night before, the Dwarf will go blindfolded. The others may go free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings." 1

ragorn started. "What? We didn't --"  
  
But his voice was cut off by Gimli, who now directed a glowering glance at him. "That bargain has been made without my consent," he said. "I will not bow to it."  
  
Haldir shrugged. "Then you can go no further."  
  
Gimli nodded. "Good. The hospitality of these woods has been lacking anyway. Aragorn, I say to you again, it was a mistake that we entered here. We should go back."  
  
Aragorn cringed and shot a quick look at the branches around them. He could see nothing; if there were Elven guards around, they stayed hidden. The other Elves, though, those who understood Westron, glared at the Dwarf and clenched their weapons more firmly. In turn, Gimli grabbed the handle of his axe. But Haldir stood unmoved.  
  
"You have entered the realm of the Lady," he said. "And you must be brought before her. You cannot go back." He gave a short look to the other shore of the river. "Besides," he added, "there are hidden sentries behind you in the wood now, whom you cannot see. You would never get past them and out of our woods alive. You must be presented to the Lady, and accept her judgment."  
  
Aragorn glared at him for a moment, then he stared at Gimli. They could not risk a further escalation. He had to end this, and quickly.   
  
He shot a quick glance at his slave. Legolas stood, head bowed and shivering; he seemed unaffected by the whole exchange. Aragorn felt deep concern for him. Yet he recalled how uneasy his slave had seemed under the gazes of the Hobbits, and how reluctant he had seemed to reply to their queries. Maybe it would be best to give him some retreat.   
  
_Still, to put them all so deeply into Haldir's hands... but then, they were at his mercy, already, anyway._  
  
Aragorn calmed his face. "I do not recall any bargain concerning Gimli to be blindfolded," he said coolly. "But it is hard on the Dwarf to be singled out. So I say, we will all wear blindfolds while we pass through these woods, and we trust that you, Haldir, will deliver us safely to the Lady and to Caras Galadhon. I am sure you will honor the word and mission of Elrond of Rivendell, and the trust and alliance between our realms."  
  
And with that he turned to Haldir and gave him a piercing glance.   
  
_Let's see if you'd really dare to bring harm to an envoy sent by Elrond, as well as to his adoptive son!_

Haldir returned his look incredulously.  
  
So did Legolas, who quickly raised his head with a startled expression."But – My Lord, we have trodden this ground before," he dared to say. "We are no strangers, here." He shot a quick glance at Haldir; he seemed terrified.  
  
**_"Daro!"_** Aragorn cut him off sharply, and Legolas cringed as it he had been hit. He bowed his head again. Aragorn saw the glares of the Hobbits, but ignored them. In a milder tone, he said: "If I am still to lead this company, you must do as I bid. And I deem it best that we will be treated all alike, and all be blindfold, even I and Legolas, although it will make the journey slow and dull."   
  
It was Boromir who protested. "What?" he asked. "You trust them to lead us blind? After -"  
  
Aragorn just stared at him. "They kept us safe last night," he said. "We have to trust them." He shot a quick look to the trees around them, trying to convey that they had no choice. "There is no reason to risk a fight when we are among allies."  
  
Boromir held his gaze for another moment, then he shot a disgusted glance at the branches around them. Finally, he subsided.  
  
Haldir looked from one of them to the other, then he shrugged. "Very well," he said, "so be it."  
  
Before his own eyes were bound, Aragorn could not help but steal a last look at Legolas, and he cursed himself. 

The face of his slave seemed frozen.   
  
  
________________ o ________________  
  
  
Legolas set his feet with care. It was awkward to walk through the forest without sight, just led by smell and noises and the occasional quiet command of the guards; but he had been forced to do things like that before, and so he managed. He did not really fear walking into a tree; while he could not understand the song of the Mallorn trees around him, he could still hear their voices, and that was enough to guide him around them at need, and while the cloth blocked his sight, he could still tell if they were walking under thick canopy or through a meadow. The song of all living things around him was enough to direct his feet. Still, every now and then, his foot caught in a root or in thick undergrowth, and he felt clumsy and helpless.  
  
He was not alone in this. All around him, he could hear the muttering and the quiet cursing of the Fellowship, whenever one of them stumbled over a stone or found their feet caught in a bramble. The Hobbits – and his master – seemed to have the least problems, but Boromir's and Gimli's constant grumbling nearly drowned out the noises of the wood. He could identify them all by voice and tread alone. Gimli did not even try to guard his steps; his heavy boots hit the ground with force, and whatever root or undergrowth was in the way either bore him no resistance or got crushed. Boromir stumbled awkwardly ahead, and Legolas could hear his constant cursing. It made Legolas cringe. He thought back to the morning, to Boromir's aborted attempt to defend him; he wished he could help him now, but there was nothing he could do. The Hobbits, especially Merry and Pippin, were astonishingly silent, and Legolas suspected that they had secretly shed the cloth or pushed it up so they could scan the ground. The quiet steps of his master, unusually clumsy, but still sure for the tread of a man, were far ahead of him, impossible to close up to. His guards had made sure to place him at the end of the company again, and the distance was growing farther.   
  
He felt awkward and isolated. He wished he would have been allowed to walk close to his master, but Haldir had placed Aragorn at the head of the line, and all the Fellowship between them. In addition, they had made sure to place more guards close to the warriors of the company. Legolas himself was guarded by a couple, and while he suspected that his guards were Haldir's brothers, he was not sure. Every now and then, he felt an Elf step close to him, and a hand sneaked out to touch his ass, follow the lines of his back or chest, or even sneak between his legs. He shivered when that happened, but he did not dare to resist; when he had tried to fend those touches off, he had been hit and Haldir's sharp voice hissed in his ear that he should recall the promise of his master. Haldir's touches he had learned to identify: they were harsh, demanding and intimate, and he got little warning. But sometimes the touches were accompanied by a snigger, or they were clumsy and awkward, and still uncomfortable. These, he feared even more; he suspected Rúmil, or worse, some other guards. There were other rare occasions, when a hand just touched his arm in a calming manner, directing him around an obstacle or caught one of his hands and gave it a small, quick, reassuring squeeze. He suspected Orophin behind these occasions, but again he was not sure.  
  
And all the time he could hear the whispering of the other guards, and sometimes he caught them making a joke about the coming night.  
  
Legolas shivered again, and tried to concentrate on where he set his feet. He yearned for Aragorn, even his rather cruel games, but it would be a long time until he could hope to go back to the hands of his master.  
  
He dreaded the night.  
  
  
__________________ o _________________  
  
  
TBC -  
  
  
Notes:   
  
1) This sentence, and parts of the following passage, loosely paraphrases the equivalent passage in the book, Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, HarperCollinsPublishers,London, Paperback edition 1995, pp.338 cont. However, I have given the scene my own spin, of course, and also added some phrases from the movie.


	52. Rúmil

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found here: <http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373>  
  
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful Nancy and the most generous and always encouraging Randy! In addition, my thanks go to Lethe and to the kind people at Lizard's Council. Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: Non-con and gang-rape. Very graphic sex scene. Please heed the warnings!  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  
  
_________________________  
  
  
**L. Rúmil**  
  
  
It was late afternoon when Haldir finally called for a stop. "We will rest here," he said. "Do not take off the cloth; you do not need to see. We will share our water and supplies with you, so you won't need to prepare your meal."  
  
Boromir uttered a sound of protest, and Aragorn began: "Haldir-"  
  
Yet he was cut off by Gimli. "No! It is bad enough that we are led around with bound eyes like prisoners; I will not take my food from you while I cannot see."  
  
Legolas could hear an angry hiss from some of the guards, who either understood Westron or at least could guess the meaning of the words by the sharp tone of the Dwarf.   
  
After a moment, Haldir replied: "As you wish, Master Dwarf. We will not force our supplies on you. But I fear we will have another two days of walking ahead of us; you may find it hard to go without nourishment for all that time."  
  
Legolas could hear Gimli's angry rumble, and knew the Dwarf was just widening his stance, but at that point, Sam spoke up.   
  
"Begging your pardon, Master Haldir, but if Gimli does not get any food from you, we would like to decline your offer, too. No hard feelings," he said. "Don't worry, Master Gimli, I know how I packed my pack. I can find our supplies well enough even in the dark!"  
  
Legolas heard a quick and quiet discussion between Merry and Pippin, then agreeing murmurs from the two Hobbits. Frodo said nothing, but Legolas could hardly imagine Sam speaking up without his support. Astonished, he turned his head in the direction of the Hobbits.  
  
Then, Aragorn finally managed to intervene. "Thank you, Sam, and well said. The members of our company shall all fare alike. Thank you, Haldir, for your kind offer, but we would prefer to postpone our reliance on your hospitality until we have been presented to the Lord and Lady, and received their judgment."  
  
There was a short pause, then Haldir said coolly: "As you wish. Take a seat then; we cannot stay for long, as it is a long walk until the evening."  
  
"Don't worry, Master Hobbit," another voice spoke up – Orophin's, Legolas realized. "I will lead you to your companions, so you can share the food with them. And please do not be wroth with my brother; he is merely enforcing our law. These are hard and strange times, and we cannot risk endangering our lands by giving our trust too freely."  
  
Sam sighed, and the other Hobbits let out their breath, too. Legolas could hear rustling all around him and concluded that the company had settled down. A hand on his shoulder indicated to him to do the same, and he obeyed.  
  
Legolas felt Orophin's hand leave him, and the Lothlorien Elf's steps moved away. Legolas could hear him stop, and then he heard a rustle and Sam's grumpy mutter, and concluded that the Elf was indeed helping the Hobbit to unpack and find his items. When Sam finally rose and walked around, Legolas could hear Orophin's voice moving from place to place, and he concluded where his other companions were by their quiet grunts of gratitude in response to Sam's voice offering them their part of the meal. Orophin spoke softly and soothingly.  
  
"We live now in an island surrounded by distrust and many dangers. Sauron's creatures have infested the lands around us, and we have few allies left outside these woods. Even the mountains to the west are teeming now with Orcs and other creatures of the enemy, as you have seen, and to the South, the plains of Rohan are no longer welcoming to our people. Some say that in the past the Elves passed into the West and suggest we should do so, again. Yet even if we should leave our lands and safely reach the shores of the Sea, it is said that we would no longer find any shelter there. I'm told that there are still the Havens ruled by our kinsmen, far in the west, beyond the land of the Halflings. But where that might be, I do not know." 1  
  
Sam muttered something unintelligible. His and Orophin's voices and steps came ever nearer. Legolas suddenly realized that all other conversation had ceased; all he could hear were the quiet sounds of the Fellowship and the rustling and noises of the forest. It was as if the other Elves around him had ceased all movements and held their breath. He sat frozen, irritated. Then he heard Sam's voice directly before him. "Master Legolas?"  
  
"I am here, Master Hobbit," he said, and could hear Sam's small huff, as he guessed a reaction to his use of the word 'master'. Gentle hands took his own and directed them upward to another, smaller pair, and he was handed a plate with something on it. While he spoke his thanks and groped for the contents of his plate, Sam asked quickly: "Are you well, Master Legolas?"  
  
"I am fine, Sam. Thank you," he assured. From what he could feel and smell, the food consisted of dry berries, nuts and bread.   
  
"Come, Master Hobbit," Orophin said, "it is time for you to partake of the meal, too." His voice and his and Sam's steps moved away. After a moment, Legolas heard Orophin ask: "So, Aragorn, can you say where those Elven havens are?"  
  
Aragorn gave an noncommittal grunt. Instead, the question was answered by Merry. His voice sounded rather irritated.  
  
"You ought at least to guess, since you have seen us. There are Elven Havens west of my land, the Shire, where Hobbits live. But I have never seen them."2  
  
"You had better finish your meal," Haldir's voice intruded. It was sharp and cold. "We will go on in a moment."

The Hobbits made a sound of protest; but Legolas thought he could hear a breath of relief from some of the guards. He drew his brows together. Haldir's voice came again, closer now. "Quick, eat up, Mirkwood spawn," the Marchwarden hissed. "We do not have all day!"  
  
Legolas cringed. Quickly he swallowed his dried nuts and cleaned his plate. A moment later, somebody took the plate away, he felt himself dragged to his feet, and the company moved on again.  
  
  
_________________ o ________________   
  
  
  
Night had already fallen when Haldir called for a stop again. Legolas could hear him issuing quiet instructions to the guards, then calling out to the Fellowship, telling them to settle down and take their rest. But when Legolas began to remove his gear, he was hindered.  
  
"Not here," Haldir said quickly. "You will come with us. Rúmil!"  
  
Legolas heard a pained hiss, then a hand settled harshly on his arm and dragged him on. "Follow me!" Haldir's voice commanded.  
  
He obeyed. His feet felt numb while he stumbled along. Beyond him, he could hear the voices of the Fellowship and of the guards, growing ever more distant, then ceasing, drowned out by the constant mumbling of the river and the rustle of the canopy above. He had no idea of the direction in which they were going, and he did not pay attention to the bushes or brambles their feet passed. All he could think of was the distant voice of his master, whom he had heard asking for him, though he had not dared to reply. When he could hear the others no longer, despair closed all around him.   
  
He could not tell how long he had been dragged on when the hand on his arm tightened and forced him to stop. It pushed him down. "Kneel," Haldir's voice commanded, "and undress. Do not discard the blindfold. Rúmil! Start a fire!"  
  
Wordlessly, he obeyed. He heard somebody dump a pack, followed by a noise like unfolding cloth. "Here, allow me," Orophin's voice offered, and a hand took his shoulder and guided him forward onto a smooth surface – some kind of blanket, from the feel of it. "This will be more comfortable."   
  
He mumbled his thanks. He did not need to see to discard his pack, his weapon and his clothes. Somewhere to his side, he heard the clang of stone on iron and soft cursing; then he could descry a light shining through the cloth over his eyes.   
  
Haldir's voice spoke up again. "Are you joining us then, tonight?"  
  
"No," Orophin answered. "Thank you. I would rather keep watch."  
  
Haldir grunted. "You could use a good relaxing, too," he said. "This slave is exquisite. And I am sure he would be eager to show you his gratitude. Would you not, Mirkwood spawn?"  
  
Legolas cringed. He heard a sigh. "Thank you, brother, but no. I will keep watch and make sure that you and Rúmil won't be disturbed by unwelcome surprises. I shall take care of my needs myself, when I can find the privacy."   
  
There was a rustle, followed by soft steps walking away. Haldir snorted.   
  
Legolas swallowed. Suddenly, he felt very alone.   
  
He heard somebody opening a pack; then he more felt than heard somebody stepping close to him and settling down beside him. Hands touched him, stroked over his chest, his thighs... He heard a sigh.  
  
"Rúmil!" Haldir's voice said sharply. "Come over here!"  
  
Rúmil did not speak. Legolas merely heard a shuffle, and then somebody knelt down at his other side.   
  
"Touch him!" Haldir commanded. "He is here for you. He does not bite."  
  
Legolas shivered. A third hand touched his skin, hesitantly, unsure, and was quickly withdrawn.   
  
Haldir cursed. "All right," he said, "it is not my usual preference, but maybe this will make it easier?"  
  
The hands left Legolas' body just to return, grabbing his wrists and pushing them together behind Legolas' back. "Stay like this!" Haldir commanded. There was another shuffling noise, then Haldir was back, binding Legolas' wrists tightly with some leather straps. He grabbed Legolas' hair and pulled it back, pushing his torso forward.   
  
"Spread!" he commanded. "Spread your thighs! Present yourself to us!"  
  
Legolas obeyed. He suppressed a sob, although he felt as if he would suffocate. Somewhere at his side, he heard a quick intake of breath, and somebody swallowed.  
  
"Do not fear," Haldir said behind his back. "He's used to this. In fact, he is used to far worse, due to the tastes of his master."  
  
There was another quick intake of breath. Then Rúmil's hands were back, touching Legolas' chest, his thighs, feeling their way across his skin, down to his flaccid maleness. Legolas felt his skin crawl. He quivered.  
  
The hands roaming over his skin grew bolder. Rúmil gave a sobbing grunt, and then one of his hands closed over Legolas' cock, stroking it slowly.  
  
Legolas swallowed another sob. He did not dare to move. The hand around his maleness squeezed, gently at first, then a bit harder, just this side of causing real pain. He hissed.  
  
He heard a deep intake of breath, then Rúmil started to massage him. Meanwhile, Rúmil's other hand wandered around to Legolas' back, stroking searchingly down his shoulder blades, his sides, down to his ass, as if to feel for scars.   
  
There were none, Legolas knew. Aragorn, for all his cruel preferences, was a superb healer, and he very rarely was harsh enough to leave open welts. Even the wounds from that horrible night back at Rivendell before they started on the quest were gone already. Still, Legolas could not help himself: he cringed, the memory of too many painful welts brought to the fore, and Rúmil groaned. His stroking on Legolas' maleness intensified. The hand that had explored Legolas' back was withdrawn, and fingers touched his chin, his face, his wet cheeks and his trembling lips. His breath hitched, and he gasped again. He heard the breath of the body at his side quicken, resonating with his own discomfort.   
  
He felt the hand on his face stroking down to his throat, his collarbone; then it was gone, and lips replaced the searching fingers.   
  
Legolas cringed. Instinctively, he leaned back, but behind him, Haldir did not move, his hands still forcing him to keep position. The lips exploring his collarbone, his chest, his shoulders, then moving on to his nipples, were oddly gentle; there was no biting or nibbling along the way, no licks of a teasing tongue. Instead, it was as if the other Elf breathed in his fear, drank in his shivering. And yet, he could not help his own reaction, his deep and intense discomfort. He tried to tell himself that this was not that bad; it was not worse than the night a few weeks ago when Aragorn had extended the spell to Boromir and Gimli. But that at least had been in the presence of his master. This was different. Each touch felt like a renewed violation, each breath on his skin like another proof of his exposure, his status as a mere body, to be used at the whim of whomever chose to use him.  
  
His shivering intensified. He felt more than heard the responding intake of breath of the Elf exploring his chest. The lips closed over one of his nipples, and teeth bit down, hard enough to wound. Legolas hissed again and let out a whimper. He heard Rúmil's answering groan. The stroking of his maleness quickened, and to his own horror, Legolas felt his betraying flesh starting to respond.  
  
The teeth grazing his nipple were followed by a warm tongue, teasing, soothing, licking, tasting him. He whimpered again. The mouth left his right nipple and moved on to the other one. He felt his own flesh fill under the teasing tongue, felt his cock swell in response, and felt wetness spread and tickle down his chest on his abandoned left nipple. A third voice – his own – whimpered again, and he heard Rúmil's answering breath, harsh, quick, intense. There was a bite to his other nipple, followed by soothing licks, then the mouth finally left his chest and wandered downwards, down his quivering stomach to his cock. He perspired. The tongue, tasting, licking, seemed to take his sweat in like a trail of sweets.  
  
The hand behind his back pushed harder, forced him to expose his stomach, lift his crotch, make his own maleness more easily accessible. At the same time, he felt his hair pulled down, forcing his face skyward. Memories sprang up, assaulted him, and for a moment he thought himself back in the hands of Elrohir and Elladan, expecting every moment to hear Elrohir's silken but cruel voice. But it did not come, and he was thrown back to the present – these were not the cruel sons of Elrond, playing their games with him as their pet, while at the same time protecting him from the use of others; these were Haldir and Rúmil, two strangers, using him at whim and on a bargain that could all too easily become permanent.  
  
The thought elicited another sob from him, and he heard another answering groan. The searching mouth had reached his crotch and closed over his cock. He sobbed again. In response, the mouth enclosing him began to suckle, riding him up and down, the hot, wet tongue swirling around his tip, and he felt himself go stiff and harden completely. The sucking of his flesh intensified, his body betraying him again. He feared what was to come – the straps, trapping his engorged flesh, hindering his completion – but the mouth engulfing his maleness did not withdraw, and he felt his mind flooded with sensation. Finally, he felt himself explode – a joyless release, forced from him against his will, and yet impossible to withstand. He came with a cry, and heard another answering groan from between his legs, where that hot mouth now drank his fluids as if they were nourishment.  
  
The mouth vanished, and so did the grip at his hair, moving to his shoulder. He sensed movement at his front and his back, the clasp at his back was replaced by a hard clench at his side, and the hand on his shoulder grasped his other side. He felt a flush of cold air at his back, then a warm body pressing against him. The hands at his side dragged him forward, forced him to lean against the chest of the one holding him, and a third hand touched his neck, stroking along his shoulders, pushing his hair aside. The hand moved on, around his side to his chest, stroking over his aching nipples, drawing a hiss from him. He heard a groan. A chin leaned on his shoulder and he heard and felt the hot breath of the one behind him in his ear. Fingers searched in the crevice of his ass, pushed against his entrance. He whimpered again. The fingers entered – they were wet, but lacked oil, and he groaned from the pain. The fingers were withdrawn, and he felt a grip around his spent cock, gathering his fluids. Then he felt them back at his entrance again, pushing in, and now they went in more easily. In and out, faster and faster, widening him, preparing; then they were withdrawn and replaced by stiff, blunt flesh, and he gasped.  
  
He was entered, filled, and he tried to move away, but couldn't. His mind tried to flee, but it did him no good: memories flared up, memories he had tried to keep away. The flesh pushing into him, the body pressing against his back seemed alien and strange, and the hands holding him in place at his side, the arms slung around his chest from behind felt oddly impersonal. In his mind they blurred together with all the hands that had ever touched him, roamed over his body, taken pleasure from him against his will or his consent, an endless row of hands, mouths, flesh, pushing, touching, tasting, entering, taking... it was too much. He tried to cry out, tried to shout his pain, but he could not get out a sound.  
  
He tried to shove the memories away, tried to concentrate on the here and now, but couldn't; the flesh impaling his body, moving in and out, the nearly unintelligible words murmured against his ear which he refused to listen to, the hands playing with his pained nipples, squeezing and caressing in turn, were all too much and forced him away. He tried to flee, tried to reach a space outside this hull, where no touch could reach him – and was thrown back. The cold blue light, all too familiar now, stopped his escape, trapped him inside his body; and yet, he could feel another light, white and icy, an adamant, unmoving presence in his mind, mingling with the blue light that held him, engulfing both him and the ones around him, cold, cruel, merciless.   
  
Then he was back in his own body and he heard himself cry, while the one who took him groaned aloud and came with another push and a shout. Warmth flooded him, and the pressure in his back wilted and was withdrawn. The body against his back slumped a little. And now he could hear the words whispered in his ear, nearly too soft to be heard, although they took a moment to register:   
  
_"I envy you, oh beautiful one. Oh, how I envy you..."_  
  
His shock and irritation was cut by the voice of Haldir.   
  
"Yes, that is it. Yes. I knew that you could do it!" He spoke to Rúmil, and he sounded pleased. "You see, brother? I told you he was good for you! I told you that you would enjoy it!"  
  
The presence at Legolas' back – Rúmil, his mind registered again – withdrew. Legolas felt cold and alone, for a moment, and he nearly faltered, kept in place only by Haldir's hands still holding him. He heard Rúmil grunt something, then another shuffle, and quick steps, leading away. He tried to focus, tried to understand where he was and what was happening, again, but he had a hard time succeeding.   
  
He heard Haldir sigh. For a moment, Haldir did not move or speak. Then, his grip at Legolas sides loosened, and one of his hands wandered up to Legolas' face.  
  
"You did well, tonight," he said. "I knew that you could do it – that you would be good for my brother. I really wish..."  
  
There was a shout. "Haldir!"  
  
Haldir groaned, and his hands disappeared. "What is it?"  
  
"You need to come. There is trouble in the camp. That Ranger..."  
  
Haldir cursed and Legolas heard another shuffle, sensed movement; he guessed that Haldir had stood up. He heard quick, focused movements and the sound of clothes on skin and leather being strapped on. Then somebody stepped behind him and released his wrists. A bundle was pushed against his chest and he grabbed it obediently.  
  
"Dress. This may take a while. But keep on the blindfold, and do not dare to move. I am not done with you tonight, and I look forward to enjoying you myself, later."  
  
And with that, his steps moved away, leaving Legolas kneeling alone in a sea of despair.  
  
  
____________ o ______________  
  
  
  
Legolas knelt in the grass, shivering. He had no idea how much time had gone by since Haldir had left, and his mind felt oddly disconnected. All sense of time and direction were gone, leaving him in a strange state of isolation.   
  
The blindfold covering his eyes seemed like a brand. The added vulnerability made it nearly unbearable. He had been blindfolded before, had endured it many times with Aragorn playing his games – but then, he had been in the hands and under the will of his master. He had even endured it in Moria, with the palpable darkness pressing on his mind like a living thing (as indeed, it had been); but there, Aragorn had acted on his distress, and had removed the cloth. Here, there was no hope and nobody to relieve him. He was little more than a thing, to be used at a whim, and whenever Haldir and his brothers should wish it...   
  
_'It is just one more night. Just one more night, and then you will be back in the hands of your master,'_ he tried to tell himself. But it was not working. He felt numb, spent, exposed, and in the back of his mind he could see himself waiting to be used again and again, by an endless parade of impersonal bodies...  
  
He tried to banish the thought from his mind, tried to concentrate on his surroundings. But he couldn't. The ever-present background mumbling of the nearby river, together with the rustling of the leaves, impaired his hearing. He could not even rely on his ears to warn him, now. It made the sense of vulnerability even worse.  
  
Nearby, he heard another noise, uncomfortably close, and he cringed.   
  
Somebody hummed a tune, quietly, under his breath, but still easily identified. It was the song of Nimrodel.  
  
Slowly, Legolas' mind swam back into focus again. He hesitated. _That song? Here?_ Despite his fear, the anticipation of another touch, the quiet song sparked his interest. He had not heard it in a long time. It was forbidden, in the Golden Wood, and those who sang it...  
  
A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he started.  
  
"Here, let me remove this -" The blindfold fell. He looked up and saw Orophin, crouching at his side.   
  
"I brought you something to wash yourself."  
  
Legolas looked at him with gratitude. The return of his vision, even if only of the surrounding glade under the stars, the tiny fire, was a relief, and so was the bowl of fresh, cold water and the cloth he found in front of him. And yet...  
  
"Thank you, my lord," he said. Orophin made a face, and Legolas ducked his head a bit, but there was no further reprimand. Legolas dared to look up again. "My lord... forgive me the question, but aren't you supposed to keep me blindfolded? Haldir said..."  
  
Orophin raised a brow and threw the blindfold aside. "Don't be foolish. Whatever Haldir said, you have been here before; you know where we are going. So, what would be the point?" He shook his head and pushed the bowl more firmly into Legolas' direction. "And please do not call me lord. I am not your lord, nor do I desire to be."  
  
Legolas stared at him. He hesitated to ask further questions. "Thank you," he finally managed and reached cautiously for the bowl. The wet cloth felt wonderful on his skin, and he dared to remove his shirt and tunic to bathe his torso. He did not know when Haldir would return, or if Orophin had his brother's consent, but better take a gift when it was offered. The water did little to wash the sweat and dirt, the feeling of strange hands and touches on his skin away, but it was at least a start, and he used it all up. All too soon, he was done and slipped back into his shirt and tunic.  
  
Feeling a bite more secure, he dared to ask: "That song..."  
  
Orophin nodded. "Nimrodel. I thought you would recognize it."  
  
Legolas cocked his head. "I thought the Lady did not approve of hearing it sung in these woods?" he asked carefully.  
  
Orophin shrugged. "Maybe." He bowed over a bag he had brought and busied himself preparing a meal.  
  
Legolas hesitated. "It has been a long time since I heard it last," he began, "but never..."  
  
"...never sung by anyone but your own people?" Orophin finished for him. "I know. But it was a song made by mine. Think! Who did you think taught it to the other hostages?"  
  
Legolas just stared at him. Orophin shook his head.  
  
"No, not me. But this song was created by my own people. It's just rarely sung by them anymore."  
  
Legolas still stared. "But that would mean..." he began.  
  
Orophin nodded. Legolas trailed off. He did not dare to speak, to finish his question.  
  
Orophin sighed. He reached out and gently touched Legolas' shoulder. "Don't worry. I am not testing you. I learned the song from one of the hostages, and I know they share it among themselves. So do we – those who are not content with the way things are. You know the history of the Lady Nimrodel, do you not?"  
  
"She asked the last king of Lothlorien to bring her to a land of peace, but she got lost. She died," Legolas replied mechanically. "So did he."  
  
Orophin made a face. "Yes," he agreed. "That is the official version."  
  
He looked down at his preparations. "Few dare to say that she was one who spoke against the Lady, and she would have brought the news of what was happening here to the ears of the Valar. Elves enslaving Elves, the horrors visited on the hostages. She would have made that journey as once Earendil did, would have asked the Powers for their help. And Amroth would have supported her. He did not have the power anymore to rise against the Lady – her warriors were more numerous than his, and they controlled the wood. So he relinquished his rank and disguised his task as a promise to indulge his lover, a quest to seek a land of peace."  
  
He shrugged. "The Lady made sure they never reached their destination. It is said that Nimrodel got lost in the mountains, and was killed by wild men. Word reached us that Nimrodel was lost, and Amroth had drowned in the Sea, trying to swim back to the coast so not to lose her. They are few now who dare to challenge that."   
  
Legolas hardly dared to breathe. He still stared at Orophin, wide-eyed and unmoving. "You are a rebel," he finally breathed.  
  
Orophin shrugged. "I am one of the few who are not content with the rule of the Lady," he admitted.   
  
Legolas swallowed. "Rúmil..." he began.  
  
Orophin turned to him, sharply. "What about Rúmil?"  
  
Legolas cringed. "I... was awake, that night in the _talan_ , when Haldir... punished him. I – heard. I... could not help it."  
  
He bowed his head, waiting for a blow, but none came. He looked up again.  
  
Orophin's face was grieved. "Haldir did not punish him," he said. "He gave Rúmil what he needed."  
  
Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. "But --" He trailed off.  
  
Orophin nodded. He seemed stricken. "Rúmil is under the spell," he said. "Not the same that holds you – one made by the Lady. She uses it for punishments." He looked away. "Let's simply say, he needed what Haldir gave him. Haldir took it upon himself to care for him."  
  
Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. "But --" He trailed off. "He's free," he finally whispered.  
  
Orophin nodded. His voice was bitter. "Yes, he is free, but that did not stop the Lady. Did you think your people were the only ones who are suffering under this cruelty?" He shook his head. "No. This perversion has gone on long enough. It has to stop." He looked at Legolas. "You are the only one who can bring about the change."  
  
Legolas stared at him incredulously. "Me? But - " He shook his head. "I am just a slave. How can I--"  
  
Orophin looked grim. "You and your party. You are our only hope. If not you, who will do it?"  
  
Legolas still stared at him in disbelief. Only a short time ago, this Elf had stood guard while his brothers had used Legolas' body as if they owned it, and now he asked the very slave they had abused for help? And how should that help be brought about? "What do you mean?" he asked.  
  
Orophin made an impatient gesture. "I know what your mission is about," he said. "I overheard Aragorn's discussion with Haldir, and while he did not speak plainly, he said enough. Your quest needs to succeed. And once it has succeeded, you are the one who will bring about the change we need. They cannot deny you."  
  
Legolas swallowed. _Hope._ Here was another one who set his hope in him. He thought back at Moria and cringed.  
"Not I – Aragorn is our only hope," he said. "He is the one you need to look to."  
  
Orophin gave him a careful look. "That Dúnadan? Who sold you out to Haldir for the entrance to this wood? Do you think there is any hope left in him?"   
  
Legolas nodded with conviction. "He is our only hope," he said. "If he cannot bring about the release, nobody can!"  
Orophin looked doubtful. "Then I will set my hope in your Ranger, Mirkwood prince," he said, "as long as he is supported by you."  
  
Legolas looked at him, eyes wide. "But – Orophin, if it is as you said – The Lady! She can read thoughts, she'll know..."  
Orophin shrugged. "She must know what I think about the enslavement of my brother," he said. "She must have known for a long time. If she decides to punish me as well, so be it. Just as long as you do what you set out to do."  
Legolas stared at him again. "I -"  
  
But he could not continue, because Orophin suddenly looked up and quickly laid a finger on his lips.   
"Just remember – do not speak about this! Not a word!" he hissed. Then he straightened up and stood. "Haldir! You have been long. What kept you?" he asked.  
  
Legolas cringed and bowed his head. The Marchwarden stepped out between the trees and passed over the meadow.  
"There was some trouble with our guests. The Dúnadan is arguing again," he said. "I see you allowed the slave to discard the blindfold?"  
  
"We both know that he has been here, before," Orophin replied. "Where is the point?"  
  
Haldir raised a brow, then he nodded. He turned to Legolas and touched his face; admiringly, he ran a hand over his cheek. "You are exquisite," he said. "You are truly wasted on this Ranger. I wonder if he could be persuaded to leave you to me. I would care well for you, you know."  
  
Legolas did not reply. He bowed his head, his eyes directed firmly at the ground. He shivered.  
  
Haldir moved his hand away. "In any case, as soon as we return to the camp, you will have to wear the cloth again," he said coolly. "I cannot allow you to have more leeway than the others. But I almost regret it."  
  
He turned back to Orophin. "I will spend the night here, apart from our other guests. I have asked Rúmil to keep watch – if you wish to join me, or to have some rest yourself, feel free."  
  
Orophin bowed his head to his brother. "I think I will leave you to enjoy your prize," he replied politely. "Be gentle. He is still a hostage of his people, and belongs to Aragorn Dúnadan." And with that, he stood up and left the two of them alone.  
  
Legolas looked up and watched him go. He shuddered.  
  
Haldir turned to him, again. He shook his head. "He is a fool," he said, "he does not know what he is missing. I saw what you did for Rúmil tonight. You did well. You were good for him."  
  
He crouched down and touched Legolas' face again; then he began slowly to fumble at Legolas' clothes, opening the straps, gently helping him to remove them. Legolas did not dare to resist, but could not help his shivering when his body was step by step revealed again.   
  
When he was naked, his clothes carefully folded to a bundle, Haldir knelt before him for a while and looked at him with appreciation. He reached out and followed the lines of Legolas' torso, his sides, his back with careful strokes.  
  
"You know," he said, "maybe I can ask the Lady to give you to me. I am sure that Ranger could be persuaded to extend the spell to us. He is mortal, is he not? And he is bound to marry at some point. He must be aware that he can't keep you then. I am sure he would be glad to leave you in the hands of an Elf who could ensure your survival, once he goes the way of all mortals. I would take good care of you. You would have to serve only me and my brother Rúmil, and maybe Orophin, should he ever come around and change his mind. How would you like that? You would do far better with us than you would with your master, considering his usual tastes."  
  
Legolas did not reply. His mind went into denial; all he could think was: _'I belong to Aragorn! I belong...'_ but he could not speak. He pressed his lips together and looked down. He swallowed.  
  
Haldir sighed. "Never mind. I shall present my case to the Lady when we arrive. But think about it! It would be good for you." His thumb caressed Legolas' lips. "However, tonight I will enjoy your sweetness one more time. I haven't had you once just for myself, so far!"  
  
And he moved on to caress Legolas' body, finally removing his own clothes in the process. This time, he was surprisingly gentle; but all Legolas could think about when Haldir tasted him, caressed him, entered him, was of the words the Marchwarden had said, the threat he had offered – the prospect of serving him and his brother Rúmil for all time; and Legolas' mind cried out for Estel, cried out for his master.   
  
He tried to let his mind drift, tried to imagine that he was taken by Estel, that it were Estel's arms who held him, Estel's flesh that entered him – and yet he couldn't. When Haldir finally came, his groan mingled with Legolas' sob, and when the Marchwarden later settled beside him to sleep, rolled into a blanket, he left Legolas staring out into the night, sleepless and without hope, staring into the dark and waiting for the pale light of the morning.  
  
______________ o _____________  
  
  
\-- TBC --  
  
  
  
Notes:  
  
1) This whole paragraph is again closely paraphrasing and in part quoting from the book, p. 339, where it is spoken by Haldir. But I have altered part of the content, and of course put my own twist on it. Please bear with me!   
  
2) Again, this sentence is a slightly altered quote from the book, page 339.


	53. The Lady Of Light

Authors note:   
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found here: <http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373>  
  
Betareader:  many thanks to the wonderful Nancy and the most generous and always encouraging Randy! In addition, my thanks go to Lethe and to the kind people at Lizard's Council. Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent.  Special warning for this chapter : Mention of torture. Please heed the warnings!  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.  Apart from that, in this chapter I am directly lifting dialogue from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of the Rings" (Extended Edition) and occasionally also some descriptions and dialogue from J.R.R. Tolkien's book "The Lord of the Rings" again. Both original and closely paraphrased dialogue will be marked with proper reference notes where it is quoted. Please bear with me!

Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.

* * *

**LI. The Lady Of Light </b>**

Legolas set his feet with care. He was alone; Haldir had placed him at the end of the line again, far from the others, and had not given him any opportunity to talk to any member of the Fellowship, least of all his master. When he had returned to the camp, he had heard Aragorn's distressed inquires for him, but all he had managed to get out was a quick "I am here, my Lord," before Haldir had slapped him across his mouth and ordered him to keep silent. He had not been allowed to speak since then.

When morning had come, it had brought him no relief; Haldir had just told him to don his clothes and his gear, and then blindfolded him again before he led him back into the camp. He had not even allowed him to wash. Legolas had done what he could with a cloth dampened with the morning dew, but he imagined he could still feel Haldir's and Rumil's fluids upon his body. Some steps ahead, he heard Haldir and Orophin whispering to each other. He did not understand what they talked about, he could only discern Haldir's annoyed and forbidding tone. Beside him, he heard the steps of another Elf, and time and again a hand stole to his body, touched his side, his back, even his ass. The tentative caresses made him shudder. They were hesitant, shy, and yet oddly hot and greedy; an attitude he had come to associate with Rúmil. From some point further forward he heard the harsh and determined steps of the Dwarf, and Gimli's constant grumble. The noise was a relief to him; it gave him some odd feeling of comfort. Sometimes, he heard Boromir speaking aloud, either addressing Gimli or the Hobbits; but the man of Gondor was too far ahead for Legolas to understand his words, or the answers. Still, all these sounds, breaking the background noises of the forest, were like a life-line keeping him from being overwhelmed by his despair. It was all he could do to hold onto it.

He could not see the sun under the cloth, but from the growing warmth and sense of light around him, it had to be close to noon, when finally, the voices grew louder, and he felt a hand on his shoulder signaling him to stop. For a moment, he felt a surge of panic – <i> _did Haldir plan to take him again, here?! </i> _\- but then he could hear the sound of many voices and the steps of a larger group ahead. They had company.

A voice called out for Haldir, and Legolas heard the Marchwarden's cool answer, followed by a short discussion. After a moment, the new voice addressed the Fellowship directly.

"Welcome, strangers in our land," the newcomer said in slow Westron with a heavy accent. "I bring word of the Lady of the Wood. Your coming has been foretold. You may remove the blindfolds, and walk free as our honored guests from here. The Lady sends you her greetings, and asks you to forgive the precautions our guards took on your path. Any misstep or harm you may have encountered while your mission was yet unknown to us will be addressed and answered for."

Legolas felt gentle hands remove the cloth from his eyes. He blinked, his first sight being Orophin's reassuring face; looking around, he saw his companions, all blinking at the sudden light, standing between a troop of Elven guards. A few steps away stood Haldir with a face like stone. Beside him, an Elven officer gave quick commands, and the newcomers milled about, asking and gaining news from the guards of Haldir's smaller troop. The officer beside Haldir turned his head to Legolas, and his face turned sour as if he had bitten on something nasty.

He stepped forward and offered Legolas a curt bow. "Mirkwood... prince," he began formally and coolly in slow-spoken Sindarin, "the Lady sends you her greetings. She offers her regret for any mistreatment by her Marchwarden and assures you that any complaints you may have will be redressed." His face, though, spoke another language, and made it clear that any complaint of a Mirkwood Elf would be seen as an unbelievable impertinence on Legolas' part. Before Legolas had a chance to reply, the officer gave him the slightest nod and turned away, leaving him speechless.

He looked to Orophin's baffled face, and while he watched, the expression of the other Elf turned grim. "I need to speak with Haldir," Orophin said, and was gone. Legolas turned around and found himself in front of his master.

"Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed. "How are you, Little Leaf? Are you well?" He grabbed Legolas' hands and held them tight.

Legolas swallowed. He hoped that Aragorn would not notice Rúmil's and Haldir's smell on him; he felt as if he was still reeking from last night. But he held onto his master like a lifeline. "Yes, My Lord," he managed to say, "I am well. Aragorn..."

Aragorn enfolded him in a tight embrace. "I am glad, Little Leaf," he murmured. "I feared for you."

For a moment, Legolas just let himself be absorbed by the scent and presence of his master. Then he stiffened a bit. "My Lord, what happens now?" he dared to ask.

Aragorn let him go, but kept holding his hands. "The officer said we will rest at Cerin Amroth and march on to Caras Galadhon at dusk. It's close – we will be there in just a few minutes. The Lady has sent reinforcements for the northern border, but it seems that Haldir's little bargain did not find her support."

Legolas said nothing. He recalled the icy white light and the voice he had encountered in his mind the other night. He had his doubts about the stance of the Lady, but he did not dare to comment.

Aragorn sighed. "In any case, I am so glad that this is over. Here, Little Leaf – I carried this for you!" He loosened some straps and handed Legolas his pack. "I imagine as soon as we find an opportunity to wash, you might be eager for a change of clothes."

Legolas blushed in shame and looked down. Aragorn's hand touched his burning cheeks. "Don't worry. I know how dearly you must wish for a decent bath – I do so, too. In Caras Galadhon, we will perhaps find the opportunity -"

He was interrupted by Merry and Pippin.

Merry ran into Legolas full force, nearly toppling him; a moment later he was followed by Pippin. "Legolas! How are you? Are you well?" the older of the two Hobbits asked, and the other added: "What did they do to you?"

Then, Boromir arrived. "Yes, how did this bastard treat you, pray tell? After this ranger sold you out, again -" He shot Aragorn an angry stare.

"He did not sell me out," Legolas said quietly. "I offered -"

"Yes, I know – Aragorn said so, too," Boromir snapped. "But he agreed, did he not? And as we now know, it was not even necessary. Haldir had no authority-"

"You should never have had to do that," Pippin said. He turned to Aragorn. "He should never have agreed to let them do that to you!"

Aragorn looked grim. "Can we discuss this in private?" he said tersely, "We are watched!" He nodded to the Elves milling about them, some of whom already looked at them with interest and irritation.

Boromir did not budge. "Let them watch!" he retorted. "After you agreed to let them have your slave, traded for entrance in these woods when it turns out..."

It was too much. The pain and fear of the last few days welled up in him, and Legolas felt too exhausted to deal with Boromir's righteous anger. He very much doubted the sudden benevolence of the Lady; but there was no way he could explain that much to Boromir.

_< i>"We did not know that at the time,"</i>_ he snapped. "Would you have preferred sure defeat and death, and for our whole mission to fail? For that would have been what had happened that night. You did not feel the Orcs who followed us. I did. Did Aragorn not tell you?"

"That is the risk we took when we started out on this Quest," Boromir objected. "You are a warrior. I have seen you fight. Do you want us to shirk any risk that may bring death to one or more of us?"

"I want our mission to _succeed!"_ Legolas retorted bitterly. "Even if that means you think me a coward!"

Boromir shook his head. "No, I don't," he said, "but why you insist on defending this ranger, I will never know!" Angrily, he turned to Aragorn.

Legolas followed his gaze and looked into the stony face of his master. He swallowed. _What was he doing? It was not his place..._ "I am sorry, my Lord," he stammered. "I should not have..."

Aragorn's face looked ashen. "No, Little Leaf, he's right. I should never have allowed it," he said. And with that he walked on, in the direction of the hillside.

Boromir watched him go with knitted brows. "He says that NOW?"

Legolas did not reply. He felt a tentative hand touching his own and looked down into the troubled face of Frodo.

"You are no coward, Master Elf," the Hobbit said, "but you should never have had to do that!" He looked ill. "I am sorry that you had to go through all of this for me." He ran away.

Without another word, Legolas followed in the direction of his master.

_____________ . __________________

 

Aragorn paid no attention where he was going until he found himself on top of the hill, right under the big, majestic tree that crowned the Naith. He was hardly aware of his surroundings. Instead, he heard again Boromir's angry accusations, saw again Legolas' pale face, the hollow cheeks, the haunted look in his eyes... <i> _What had he been thinking? Why had he ever allowed himself to be persuaded to agree to Haldir's outrageous offer? </i>_

But that was not all there was to it. He heard again Legolas' quick defense of him, then the sudden cringing and the fear when his slave realized he was attacking one of his betters. Fear of the disappointment of his master, fear of what Aragorn would do to punish him.

He fought down bile. <i> _How had they come to this?! </i>_

Giving in to his own frustration and exhaustion, Aragorn leaned against the trunk of the big tree. He looked around.

The place was beautiful, as it had been when he had visited it last. The two circles of trees surrounding him stood as if they would always withstand time, as if since the days of Nimrodel nothing could touch their majesty and beauty. The tiny <i> _elanor </i>_-flowers spotted the grass like little stars. This was the place where he had bound himself to Arwen, all these years ago.

He saw himself again, washed and clean, clad in fine garb, full of hope and good intentions. He had been on his way back from Harad, where he had gotten rid of his addiction to that stimulant that had nearly cost him his – and Legolas' – life. He had been so glad that he had managed to break free from the addiction, relieved he had survived his venture into Mordor, alone, not shadowed by his Elf. He'd been proud that he had managed to find out more about the enemy, and determined to leave Legolas in the hands of Halbarad when he came back, maybe in time find him an Elven master. Somebody who would ensure his survival, and who would not have to hurt him anymore.

And in his determination and intent to give Legolas up, he had met Arwen again, and fell in love with her anew. Beautiful, regal and kind, she had appeared then like the answer to his prayers. He had been flattered and proud when she allowed his renewed courtship, and full of hope when she had finally agreed to pledge their troth. He had thought if it indeed was his destiny to become king, he would find ways around his dark desires, a way to sire an heir – maybe using that stimulant again, since he now knew to use it only rarely; and he would simply have to deny himself his other, darker desires. Legolas would be safe in the hands and care of another. His way had seemed clear to him, at last. He had been so intent on doing the right thing.

That had been over thirty years ago. His good intentions had not lasted that year's summer.

He picked one of the star-shaped flowers. Bitterness welled up in him and nearly took his breath.

"I heard your offer to Haldir that night."

The voice was hesitant and right behind him. <i> _Frodo! </i>_ Aragorn jumped and turned around. "I did not know that you speak Silvan, Master Hobbit," he said.

Frodo looked at him, pale and troubled. "I do not. I could gather just a few words, but what I understood was clear enough," he offered. "I know you tried to spare Legolas his plight. I spoke with Sam and with my cousins. They know you did not give in lightly, too."

Aragorn stared at him. "You told Merry and Pippin I offered -"

Frodo shook his head. "I told them you went to great lengths to spare Legolas what he had to do. That if not for Legolas' insistence, you would have risked turning around." Frodo was pale. "Still – he should not have had to do that. Neither should you. Not because of me." The Hobbit swallowed. "Aragorn..."

Aragorn sighed and rested on his haunches. "No, he should not have," he said. "Frodo... do not blame yourself for Legolas' plight. Or mine. Or for the death of Gandalf. Nothing of that has been your fault. None of it."

Frodo looked away. "Boromir said so, too. He told me I was already bearing a heavy burden, so I should not burden myself with Gandalf's death." He bit his lips. "Still – if not for me, for the thing I carry, none of this would have happened. Gandalf would still be here. Legolas would not have..." he shook his head.

Aragorn closed his eyes. "As Boromir said – we accepted that risk when we set out. Gandalf fell to save us. Do not deny his sacrifice. He would not want you to blame yourself." He did not have the heart to tell the Hobbit that as far as Legolas' situation was concerned, the real danger to the Elf was Aragorn himself.

After a moment, he added: "Frodo? Thank you!" He stood up. "Do you know there is a flet up in this tree? Do you wish to see the way we have come?"

Frodo had the grace to make no mention of the obvious distraction. "Thank you. I would like to see the wood from up there," he said.

Aragorn touched his shoulder. "Come then, Master Hobbit. The ladder is this way."

_____________________ o _________________

 

Cerin Amroth was just as beautiful as Legolas remembered. The little golden <i> _elanor </i>_ flowers spotted the lush green grass like tiny stars in a bright sky. The warm twilight falling through the canopy of the Mallorn trees filled the inner circle around the old, majestic tree that crowned the center; the tree that still bore the old <i> _talan </i>_ legend claimed king Amroth had once built for Nimrodel. The outer circle of white trees bore no leaves now, although he had seen them in full canopy when he has visited here last. The place felt clean, fresher than the other parts of the wood they had passed through. Even the light seemed gentler and more clear. It was as if a part of the hope and the love of Nimrodel and Amroth still resided here, untouched by the stain and shadow that had tainted even the other parts of the Golden Wood.

And yet... and yet... He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself.

_< i>Boromir's disbelieving stare, Aragorn's stony face when he uttered his verdict</i> _– what should he do? How could he explain to Boromir his reasoning if even his master did not accept it anymore? As for the sudden benevolence of Galadriel --

"Do you have a moment?"

He turned around. Orophin looked at him, his face troubled.

Legolas bowed to him. "Of course, my lord Orophin. How can I be of service?"

Orophin sighed. "As I told you before, Mirwood prince, I am not your lord. Come, let us sit." After a quick look around for listeners, he settled himself in the shadow of a tree of the outer circle. Obediently, Legolas followed his example.

After a moment, Orophin began: "I need to take my leave of you."

Legolas looked at him. "But – I thought – do you and Haldir not accompany us to the Lady?"

Orophin shook his head. "Rúmil will not go one step further to Caras Galadhon. He does not wish to come close to the Lady. I will accompany him back to our borders."

"But I thought... Haldir..."

Orophin's mouth was a thin line. "Whatever Haldir may have thought, he was wrong. Rúmil has gained her wrath once already. Unless forced, he will not risk coming close to her again. And it is wiser for him, too. She needs Haldir, and will try to keep his loyalty. Rúmil, though..."

Legolas stared at him. He recalled Rúmil's clumsy touches and his needy words, the night before. He felt cold. "My lord Orophin," he began carefully, ignoring Orophin's grimace, "if I may ask... why was your brother Rúmil sentenced in the first place?"

Orophin looked away. "He shirked his duties at the watch."

Legolas stared in disbelief. Neglecting one's watch was a serious offense, even in his own woods – the threat of Orcs and other enemies was too imminent to be ignored. But still, such a sentence... <i> _for that?! </i> _"What kind of duties?"

Orophin searched his gaze again. "Rúmil was too kind hearted. Do you remember the hostage Saeron mentioned in Haldir's flet? Sûlros?"

Legolas just nodded. Orophin made a face. "Sûlros was in Saeron's personal care, much like you are in that of Aragorn. Saeron... matches the preferences of your master. But Sûlros did something a Mirkwood slave is not allowed; he fell in love with one of his fellow hostages, a girl called Nurlir. They met secretly, mostly at Rúmil's watch. My brother did not hinder them. He did not give them away as would have been his duty, either. He simply tolerated what they did. When they were finally discovered, the two of them decided to rather die than face further punishment, even if the spell should kill them. They ran away. Rúmil allowed them to escape. For that, he was sentenced and punished."

He looked away. "Haldir never forgave him the perceived dishonor. He stood high in the favor of the Lady, and so he asked her for permission to take care of Rúmil's needs himself. He does not need to lie with him to do so, so she allowed it. Haldir blamed the two hostages for this. He did not question the decisions of the Lady. Not even then." His voice was bitter.

Legolas hardly breathed. "What became... of the hostages?"

Orophin looked down. "They were found and surrounded. Nurlir was shot. Sûlros held her in his arms when she died. He... climbed as high as he could on the tree where they had taken shelter, and simply stepped off a branch."

Legolas stared at him, brows knitted. "But..."

Orophin looked up and met his gaze again. "There was a severe punishment of other hostages, to discourage more slaves following their example. But this was not the first time such a thing has happened, nor will it be the last. Many hostages have relatives they do not want to be taken in their stead. Nurlir and Sûlros merely had each other. I do not judge their choice."

Legolas shook his head. "It is not my place to judge them, either," he said quietly. "Orophin - " He stopped, unsure what to say. He still shuddered at the memory of Rúmil's touch last night. And yet... "I am sorry for the fate of your brother," he finally offered.

Orophin held his gaze. "You have a kind heart, Mirkwood prince. I thank you for your words," he answered seriously. "Please remember that you and your mission are our only hope. Remember what I said to you last night. You and your company need to succeed. You need to end this."

And with that, he stood and offered Legolas a bow, and the Elven leave-taking. "Remember that our hopes go with you," he said. "May the Powers guard your way. Have a safe journey!"

Legolas stood as well and returned his farewell. "May the Powers watch over you," he answered. "And thank you. For all you did."

Orophin smiled. "It was my honor, Mirkwood prince. May the stars shine on you on all your ways."

He went away. Legolas stared after him.

"You like him." The voice was gruff, and it spoke Westron. There was astonishment in it as well. Legolas whipped around.

The face of the Dwarf did not betray his thoughts.

Legolas sighed and looked away. "He has been kind to me. He saved my sanity these last few days," he replied tersely. "Is that enough for you, Master Dwarf?"

Gimli harrumped. "Of course," he said noncommittally. "You need not justify yourself to me, Master Elf. So, some of them are decent?"

Legolas sighed again. Tired, he said: "Some of them are. How can I be of service, Master Dwarf?" He looked directly into the Nogoth's face. "What do you want?"

The Dwarf shrugged. "Oh, nothing, nothing," he stated. "Actually, I thought I might be of some help to _you_. I thought I might keep close to intervene at need, or keep you company, if you wanted."

Legolas stared at him. _"To do what?"_ he asked, although he thought he had an idea.

Gimli changed his stance. "Do not play coy with me, Master Elf," he said tersely. "From the words of that other Elf today it is clear that our hosts decided they wish to keep up appearances. They cannot mistreat you too badly if one of our company is close, right? Not if they do not wish to lose face. And from what you have told me, you are not allowed to fight back yourself. So, as long as one of the Fellowship is close to you, you are safe. Am I right?"

Legolas still looked at him, puzzled. "I am not sure of my treatment here," he said, "but yes, you may be right. But may I ask – why would you do this for me?"

Gimli seemed annoyed. "I still owe you," he said. "Is that enough for you, Master Elf?"

Legolas was still puzzled. "Yes, but..."

Samwise's excited voice cut through his words. "Legolas! Gimli! Come!" the Hobbit called. "Aragorn send me to fetch you. We are going to see the Lady!"

Legolas swallowed. With a sense of dread, he picked up his pack and nodded at the Hobbit. His gaze fell on Gimli. He still owed him an answer. And for the Dwarf to make such an offer...

He bowed. "Yes, that is enough for me, Master Dwarf," he replied. "And thank you!"

 

___________________ o _________________

 

Legolas stepped on the platform of the flet with dread. It had been a long time since he last was here, and his memories of the event were not pleasant. Yet even then, he had not felt the icy fear that he felt now. He felt Haldir's gaze, a few steps ahead from him, as if it burned. And the grim and troubled face of his master... Aragorn had not spoken to him again since the short exchange at Cerin Amroth. He wished he knew his master's thoughts, knew what he expected...

Like a cold star in the night, Galadriel appeared, Celeborn at her side. A bright, white light emanated from her, and Legolas felt every thought turn to ice in his mind. He knew that light, had felt it before, in the nights he had been taken by Haldir and Rúmil... He caught himself staring and quickly tried to hide his dread in a deep bow. Yet he could feel her eyes upon him like a frigid breeze.

He dared a look at his companions. A few steps ahead, his master offered the Lady and Celeborn a respectful greeting. Beside him, Frodo stood wide-eyed but silent; Sam beside the Ring-Bearer looked stunned. Merry and Pippin stared with open mouths, obviously blinded by the light that emanated from the Lady. Boromir looked at the Lady of the Golden Wood reluctantly and seemed to shudder. And Gimli – the Dwarf stood rooted to the ground. He seemed stunned, completely taken by surprise. Legolas felt cold inside. He looked down to his boots, tried to clear his mind. He swallowed.

Then, Celeborn spoke, and all thought fled from Legolas' mind.

"Eight there are here, but nine there were who set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him! I can no longer see him from afar."*

Legolas shuddered. He could feel the Elven Lord's eyes on him and kept his own eyes firmly down. In the sudden silence, Galadriel spoke, with a voice that seemed to show surprise. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow!"*

Celeborn turned to her with a sharp look, and Legolas quickly followed his gaze. She had not told her husband? It was said that nothing came to pass in and around the Golden Wood without the Lady's knowledge.

But it was Aragorn who answered her. His voice was bitter. "He was taken by both shadow and flame. A balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."*[1](http://astele.co.uk/henneth/Chapter/Details/22373#sdfootnote1sym)

Galadriel pierced him with a sharp look.

"Needless were few of Gandalf's deeds in life," she said. "We do not know yet his full purpose*. What will come of your sojourn into the mines of the Dwarves has yet to be revealed."

Legolas cringed.He felt her gaze turning to him like a palpable touch, felt his mind probed and his memories sorted one by one. He tried to keep his mind empty, but it was useless. He was caught like a fly in the white, icy light. He trembled. But she simply let her gaze move on, and he dared to breathe again. He risked another look at his companions. Beside him, Gimli looked to the ground, his face unreadable but grave with sorrow. A few steps ahead, Aragorn's gaze seemed fixed to the ground, too. Boromir's eyes, though, were fast on the Lady. His face and gaze showed pain.

Celeborn drew his brows together. "A balrog! Long did we know a great evil dwelled in Moria, but we had yet to learn what it was the Dwarves had woken in the mines. Ill indeed are the tidings it has risen once again!"

Legolas did not dare to breath. <i> _Galadriel had read his memories. She knew -- </i> _

Galadriel's sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "The enemy has pursued you into these woods. What hope you had in secrecy is now lost. The eye of the enemy is fixed upon us."

Frozen, full of dread, Legolas raised his eyes to her. If this was to be the hour of his judgment, he wished to look it in the eye.

Galadriel surprised him. Her clear, sharp voice rang out as she spoke: "We have also heard with great sorrow that upon entrance in our woods your company has not been treated with due respect. One of our Marchwardens acted without authority and overstepped his bounds. We regret this deeply."

Celeborn beside her turned directly to Legolas and bowed. "Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood. Be welcome, cousin, in our woods. It is with regret we hear you have not been treated with the respect due to you."

Legolas stared at him, dumbfounded. <i> _He could not mean--? </i>_

Galadriel said sharply: "Haldir, Marchwarden of Lorien, step forward."

Haldir, pale and silent, followed her command. His face was unreadable, carved of stone.

Galadriel turned to Legolas. "If you have a complaint to make, Mirkwood prince, speak now. It shall be addressed."

Legolas stood transfixed. He could not believe what was happening. He caught the disbelieving look of his master, as stunned as he was himself, and the expectant look of Gimli. He shot a look at Haldir, who stared blandly ahead, then he turned back to Galadriel.

She caught his gaze. In his mind, she spoke: <i> _'Choose with care, Mirkwood prince. Haldir has overstepped his bounds and deserves to be punished. We cannot spare his service as one of our most capable Marchwardens, and so we cannot allow you or your master to challenge him. But there are other ways to have him and his brothers pay for their transgression. If you wish for him to be punished he shall be.' </i>_

Legolas stared at her with horror. He thought of Rúmil, of the clumsy touches, of the need... with a sudden flash of insight, he knew. <i> _Orophin! She meant to get at Orophin! </i>_

He bowed. It took him a moment to find his voice, but when he spoke, it was clear and formal. "I thank you, My Lady, My Lord Celeborn. But Haldir did not treat me unduly cruelly. I would ask for him and for his brothers to be spared, and not punished on my behalf."

He saw his master turning around to him, dumbfounded. The Dwarf, standing beside him, was incredulous. Legolas looked away and met Haldir's gaze. The Marchwarden seemed as shocked as he was himself. He swallowed.

Galadriel spoke again. "You have a generous soul, young Thranduilion; remarkable in one of your kind. So be it."

But in his mind, Legolas could hear her voice like cold, searing ice. "Good. With your offer to Haldir upon entrance in our woods you have done penance for your actions in Moria, and your request to spare him shows that you have learned your place. You will not try to seek freedom again. This is well. Your master may yet learn his lesson, too."

Legolas' mind was frozen. He did not dare to think or speak. Cold with fear of what she might yet decide to do, he finally said: "Thank you."

Galadriel turned to Haldir. "Haldir, Marchwarden of Lorien, you ought to have to answer for your actions, but by the grace of the prince of Mirkwood you are forgiven. Remember that you owe him gratitude."

Haldir offered her a deep, respectful bow, then he repeated the bow to Legolas. He stepped back to his place and stared ahead without another motion.

Legolas still gazed at him. He did not dare to speak or think again. He caught Celeborn glancing at him with interest. He looked away and stared down at his boots. He barely heard Celeborn's next question and Galadriel's reply, yet he saw both Aragorn and Boromir squirm at her gaze. He was relieved when, finally, the audience was over and Galadriel released them from her presence.

 

__________________ o __________________

 

The words seemed to resonate within Aragorn's head. He could not believe what he was hearing. It was all he could do to keep his calm, both during the audience and the long way down. But as soon as they had all reached the bottom of the tree again, Aragorn turned around to his slave.

"Why did you spare him, Little Leaf?! You should have demanded satisfaction! I would have challenged him right there. Valar, the way the Lady phrased her offer, I thought maybe she would even have let you challenge him yourself. Why did you let him go?!"

Legolas cringed visibly. He started: "Estel..." - but at that moment Boromir chimed in.

"Yes, why did you spare that bastard? I would have been pleased to take him down for you if you did not claim the privilege!"

Legolas bit his lips. He looked directly at Aragorn, and Aragorn could see the frustration and pain in his eyes. "She would not have allowed it. She spoke within my mind, Estel. She..."

He trailed off and shook his head. Aragorn felt a chill running down his spine. He shot a look at Boromir, whose eyes had grown wide. The Gondorian seemed uneasy; maybe the Lady had silently spoken within his mind, too.

Beside Legolas, Gimli leaned on his axe. "A pity," the Dwarf said simply. "Still, you should not have allowed him to get off that easily. That Elf deserved to answer for his actions. I am sure..."

He trailed off and turned his head, for at that moment, Haldir himself stepped from the stairs and stood before them. He bowed to Legolas.

"You have been generous today, Thranduilion. I am in your debt. If there is anything I can do to repay the favor you showed me today, please let me know."

Legolas exploded. "Leave me alone," he hissed. "There is nothing I would want of you, Haldir, except to never speak to me again. I did not do it for you. You have your brother Orophin to thank for this!"

Haldir visibly paled. He bowed again. "I hear you," he said, "however, my debt to you stands. I owe you."

Aragorn did not wait to see what Legolas would do; he'd had enough. He took two steps, moved in front of Legolas, and let his fist connect full force with Haldir's chin. Haldir flew to the ground, rolled and crouched, obviously dazzled.

Aragorn glared at him. His knuckles hurt, but more than that he felt deep satisfaction. He had yearned to do that for days. "Never, ever again lay a hand on my Elf," he spat. "If you do, in any way, I WILL kill you."

Haldir stared back at him and wiped his chin. For a moment, his hand went to his knife; then, he merely stood up and spat at Aragorn's feet. "Brave words, Dúnadan, if a bit late," he said. "It is a pity Legolas is bound to you. He deserves better."

Then he took a simple step to the side so he faced Legolas again. He bowed a second time. "Whatever you may think of me, I owe you, Thranduilion," he said. "I shall not forget it."

Without waiting for a reply, he went away. Aragorn stared at his retreating back, then he whipped around to his slave again. "What was that about?" he demanded.

His Elf swallowed. But it was Gimli who answered. "Obviously, the bastard was saved by his brother. I assume Orophin is the decent one?" He turned to Legolas.

Legolas nodded. "Yes, Orophin is the decent one," he said. "I..."

Gimli shook his head. "You still should have demanded satisfaction," he drawled. "I am sure the Lady would have known whom she should spare."

Legolas cringed. "Gimli..." he began, but he trailed off. Aragorn felt that chill again. He wondered what it was Galadriel had said. Well, he could ask Legolas about it when they were alone. For now...

"I await your report later, Little Leaf," he said. "Now, let us find a place to make our camp. We all need rest."

Legolas bowed to him. He seemed uneasy, and Gimli shot Aragorn a long, measuring look. Aragorn wondered when the Dwarf had grown so protective of the Elf.

Boromir interrupted their exchange. "We have company," he observed.

Aragorn turned. A few steps behind them stood an Elf, clad in fine garb and without visible weapons. Aragorn had no idea how long he had been there. If the stranger had seen their fight with Haldir, he did not comment on it. He bowed to them.

"The Lady sends you her greetings. A tent has been prepared for those of you who prefer to sleep on the ground. For those of you who would prefer the comfort of a <i> _talan </i>,_ residence shall be provided, too. If you will follow me?"

He turned, and they had no choice but follow on his heels. It was not far. When they finally reached the tent – a luxurious construction spanned before a huge tree – especially the Hobbits looked relieved.

"If you prefer a talan, there is one waiting for you in this tree," their guide offered. "A meal shall be served soon. If you have any wish or need, please call on me. The Lady also invites you to use her own bath house, to refresh yourself. It is that way." He pointed. "Fresh garb has been provided for you, if you wish for a change." He shot a doubtful look at the Hobbits and the Dwarf, though, and Aragorn concluded that the garb for them would need some considerable threaedwork.

Aragorn looked at Legolas. His Elf had visibly brightened at the offer of a bath. He caught the hopeful gaze of his slave, his tentative "My Lord,..." and nodded. "Of course, Little Leaf," he said, "go and take your bath. I shall follow later."

With visible relief, Legolas bowed to him, shrugged out of his gear and left in the appointed direction.

Meanwhile, Samwise set his pack down in front of the tent and turned to their guide. "No offense, Master Elf," he said, "but I would prefer to sleep on the ground, if it is all the same for you."

The Elf laughed. "Of course, Master Halfling. Not everyone prefers the lofty heights, even among our people," he replied. "I trust you will find the bedding down here quite comfortable."

Aragorn did not listen anymore. He shot a speculative gaze up the tree. This was not the flet he had stayed in with Legolas before, but still... he decided against an inspection of the flet for the moment and chose a place to set his pack and gear down. He placed Legolas' gear beside his own and was just unrolling his bedroll when their guide stepped up to him and spoke into his ear. "The Lady asks for your presence, Dúnadan; she wishes to talk to you in private."

Aragorn swallowed and replied with a slight bow. "I shall attend in a moment," he gave back. "Please lead the way."

_< i>Time to find out what plans Galadriel really had in store for them.</i>_

 

_____________________ o ____________________

 

She waited for him in her garden, a spot where the Lady of the Wood grew herbs for healing and for other uses. He knew the place from an earlier visit, when Arwen had showed it to him. Galadriel greeted him graciously and dismissed the guide. "Ah, Aragorn, it is good you join me here. There is much we need to talk about."

He offered her a respectful bow. "About Haldir..."

She shook her head. "It is not him I wish to discuss," she said sharply. "I have to talk with you about your slave."

Aragorn grew cold inside. "Legolas," he said. "What about him?"

She shot him a sidelong look. "You know that Legolas contemplated killing you?"

Aragorn flinched. He did not answer. <i> _When...? </i>_

Galadriel watched him out of the corner of her eye. "He did not tell you?"

Aragorn shrugged. "He told me he had been tempted by the Ring," he said, "but not how, precisely. I can imagine that it would include something like that." He shrugged again and added mildly: "Besides, I did not ask."

Galadriel looked at him, her expression somewhat bemused. "He contemplated killing the whole Fellowship including you," she stated, "and afterwards taking the Ring and bringing it home to his father, to start a rebellion."

Aragorn repressed a shiver. "I can imagine," he muttered. "May I ask when --?"

"When you were caught in that snow storm at Caradhras," she answered. "But then you entered the mines, and so his plans were thwarted.

Aragorn swallowed. <i> _So that had been the reason why his slave had been so upset at Caradhras! </i> _He might have succeeded with it, too, if he had followed through on the thought. Still, in the eyes of Galadriel... Looking up at her again, Aragorn said neutrally: "We have all been tempted by the Ring."

Galadriel looked at him with obvious surprise. "You are not going to punish him?"

Aragorn shrugged anew. "Why should I?" he asked. "I know what the Ring offered **me**. It has also tried to seduce Boromir, and Gimli. None of us gave in. Why should Legolas be any different?" He made a dismissive gesture. "The important point is that he did not do it. I know his skill with knives and bow. Had he wished us dead back then, we would have been. He resisted, as we all did, and I am sure he will do so again. As will we all."

Galadriel raised a brow and looked at him in silence, but he refused to relent. Finally, she gave in. "You have great trust in him," she observed.

Aragorn nodded. "He never gave me reason to do otherwise," he said, and added grimly, "even though I have sometimes given him little reason for such loyalty toward <i> _me </i>_."

Galadriel did not reply. For a moment, she seemed somewhat disappointed, but she recovered fast. "Your loyalty to him is as great as any like him could wish for," she stated coldly. "He has much reason to hold true to you, as is his duty."

Aragorn flinched again. Galadriel knew about his needs. "He is loyal, and he has my trust," he finally stated.

She pierced him with a sharp look. "And yet in Moria you and Mithrandir tried to break the spell that binds your slave to you?"

Aragorn straightened his back. "Mithrandir and I thought it wise to try and give Legolas release from the needs that govern his survival. His loyalty to me is without question. He does not need the bond to enforce that," he said carefully. "Besides, if our Quest is successfull..."

Galadriel held him with her stare. "I know what it is you attempted," she said. "But you are wrong. Others have tried before to undo the spell, and they have failed. Mithrandir would not have been successful, either." She shrugged. "Your slave has already repented of his ill-advised wish. But even had he not, it would not matter. There is no way for you to give him freedom, Aragorn."

Aragorn did not reply. He did his best to guard his face, even his thoughts. Blandly, he began: "Maybe..."

Galadriel did not wait for his reply. Cold and clear she continued: "Even should your Quest succeed and you destroy the One, the spell will not be broken. The Three are powerful in their own right. Nothing wrought with the help of one of them is easily undone. Elrond is the keeper of one of the Three. Do you think he would have agreed to your quest, had he thought that it would destroy his power? Mithrandir erred when he conjectured that once the One were gone, the Three would fade and all their works be undone." She shook her head. Almost gently she finished: "No. Even should the One be destroyed, the spell that binds your slave will not be reverted or broken. That hope is closed to you both, Aragorn."

Aragorn's mouth went dry. He felt black despair open up on him. Feeling slightly ill, he managed to rasp: "My Lady..."

Galadriel stopped him with a gesture. "I am not Elrond. Your secret is safe with me," she said. "Your loyalty and your commitment to your slave are commendable, Aragorn. You care deeply for the ones you love, and who depend on you. That is one of the reasons why I may yet lose my granddaughter to you. You will stand by Legolas no matter what – he could not wish for a better master. He knows this, too. His loyalty and commitment to you run deep. Why would you wish to uproot it?"

She sounded truly curious. Aragorn fumbled for an answer. He could hardly give her his real reasons. <i> _'Because I love him and I want his people to be free' </i>_ was not something she would accept or understand. Yet she had spoken of Arwen; she knew of his mortality. How could she ask? After a few heartbeats, he began: "I am mortal..."

She looked at him sharply, as if she had guessed this was not the only reason. "He knew that when he chose to be given to you," she said, "just as my granddaughter has to make that choice for herself. It was his choice to commit himself to you. Do you wish to tell me he had no choice in the matter?"

Aragon looked down. Galadriel knew their history as well as he did himself. "Yes, it was his choice too, at the time," he said. He did not add the bitter words that resonated in his mind. <i> _Of course, Legolas might not have been clear on what, exactly, he agreed to._ </i>

Galadriel nodded. "Then you have to respect it," she stated simply, as if that was the end of the matter.

Aragorn hesitated. "Once I marry..."

Galadriel laughed. It was an eerie sound, and it startled him. "Oh, I know of your arrangement with Arwen," she said. "It may not be my preference, and I would have thought of another solution to your problem, but if she is willing to share your slave with you, that is her choice to make, and it is not for me to interfere. So, why?"

Aragorn stared at her, baffled. He had thought that his and Arwen's pact had been known to them and Glorfindel alone. And yet...

Galadriel looked at him critically, and he knew he had to answer. He looked away. "My needs are hard on him."

She shot him a quick look. "I see," she said. "So that is at the root of your desire. It is his duty to serve you in any way you need, no matter what. But you wish him to be glad, not fearing to serve you as is his purpose. I honor that, for it shows your concern. You have a noble soul, Aragorn." She paused. "There might be a solution for that."

Aragorn drew his brows together. "You mean you could heal..."

Her face was apologetic. "No. I cannot change what has been done – nor can I change your needs. But still, I might have an offer that could solve your problem. You wish to give your slave release from your needs." She paused again. <i> _"But what if he would enjoy it?" </i>_

Aragorn looked at her, dumbfounded. "You mean..."

Her face was cold, unreadable. "There is a spell. If done harshly, it can be used as punishment. But if done lightly, it could be the solution to your problem. Your slave would no longer have to fear what you have in store for him. Instead, he would crave it, and eagerly look forward to serving your needs. You could have your slave, still bound to you – but he would no longer suffer from the nature of the service you require. The two – or three – of you could be very happy together."

Aragorn stared at her, wide eyed. He felt a growing coldness mount inside of him. And yet...he swallowed hard. "I..." He took a breath. "That is what the Ring offered me," he finally whispered.

Galadriel's face showed disdain. "The Ring would offer that," she said sternly. "And of course it would lie. For it would give you just the power to force his will; and if you took the Ring, why would you want him to enjoy it? But my offer is different. He would truly crave and enjoy his times with you."

Aragorn still stared at her, frozen to his core. The thought to twist his beloved, trusted longtime companion like that, to warp his desires, his very needs, made him feel ill. And yet... If Legolas would truly enjoy what Aragorn craved... if they could truly find pleasure together, without guilt... Maybe he could ask Legolas what he thought of the offer. Maybe... He felt an unwelcome pressure in his loins. He swallowed again. His mouth was dry. He searched for his voice. "My Lady..."

Galadriel narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you need to see a demonstration," she decided. "Follow me!" She turned around and started to walk, beckoning him to follow.

Reluctantly, he followed in her tracks. <i> _A demonstration? What-- </i>_"Where are we going?"

She did not even turn her head. "I will show you one of the slaves spellbound like that," she said. "A Mirkwood hostage. Be warned, though: In his case, the spell was done as punishment, and given early, before we learned completely to control it. But you can witness how it works."

She lead him down a long, winding path to a high hedge, and entered through an opening between the bushes. He found himself in a narrow corridor, made of thick, impenetrable brush. This was a part of Caras Galadhon where he had never been before, and he wondered that he had never seen it. They passed through a tunnel of woven branches and came to a wooden wall. The door was small and manned by two grim guards.

Galadriel led him to the door. "This is an area for punishments," she warned. "Do not try to come here, alone. Your status would not protect you." Her voice seemed unnaturally loud, and he noticed that they walked in silence. The noise seemed to be swallowed up around them.

He shivered. "My Lady..."

She shot him a look. "Do not wonder at the lack of sound. There are spells to hide this place away, and keep the sounds... inside." And with that, she nodded at the bowing guard, opened the door and led him through. He stepped into a wide glade surrounded by huge trees like a round, wooden circle. Between the trees, large sharpened poles rose from the ground forming a high, impenetrable wall. There were some huts, and some trees standing in the areal; but mostly, the space he could see was empty.

Save for the prisoners.

He could see several thin Elves, naked or clad in ragged garb, chained to a post or held in wooden stocks. Most of them cringed when they spied the Lady, except for those who seemed too hopeless or too weak to even raise their heads. Several of them were sporting evidence of beatings. Galadriel did not even look around. She led him on, straight to the other side of the glade to a place where two posts formed a frame. There was a slave bound fast between them. Obviously, he was just receiving a punishment.

The Elf who meted it out paused when Galadriel approached and gave her a deep bow. "My Lady," he greeted respectfully. "I am just giving our prisoner his last treatment today."

She nodded. "Very well, Badhorant. We are just here to watch. You may continue."

Aragorn watched in horror. For when the prisoner heard Galadriel's voice, he had raised his head; and Aragorn looked at a face grimed with sweat and laced with pain – but eerily similar to the one of his slave. The hair was dirty, but it still showed the light, golden tone Aragorn knew so well. Wide, empty eyes stared at him without understanding. Trembling lips tried to form a word. Then the Elf spoke, with a raspy voice dry from lack of water. "Please," he begged, "more!"

Aragorn felt frozen to the core. For a moment, he had feared Galadriel had acted without his consent, and had already done what she had offered to him. But no – this Elf was more broadly build than Legolas, even though he was pitifully slim, and the hair, while grimy, was a shade too dark. This was not his slave. It had to be one of Legolas' brothers. Speechless and frozen, he stared at the sunken eyes; the greyish skin scattered with red, angry welts; the shuddering, trembling form.

Yet it was not fear that he could see displayed in that face, those mindless eyes. The slave was trembling with need.

The other Elf sighed and raised his whip. "In a moment, Cólaras. You are impolite to interrupt me answering the Lady. This will add to your punishment. You will receive ten strokes more than usual, tonight."

The pitiful, kneeling bundle bound between the poles bowed his head to him. "Thank you, my lord," the Elf said, with genuine gratitude. "Thank you."

Aragorn was surprised he found his voice. It sounded flat in his own ears. "What did he do?"

Galadriel turned to him and shrugged. "This one? Oh, he once tried to start a rebellion among the hostages, inciting them to fight. We had to kill many of them."

She cocked her head. "Of course, in his case the spell was cast for maximum effect. If done carefully, it can be much gentler. It can cause just a mild desire for harsher treatment, or a profound craving, just as you would prefer." She raised a brow. "In fact, I even had considered to offer using a very mild form of it to Arwen, should she have so desired, to make her more receptive of your tastes. But she has found a better solution for that problem, and I welcome her choice."

Aragorn stared at her in disbelief. It was all he could do not to draw his sword and kill her on the spot. He knew he could not do that, not in this wood, not at the center of her power. And yet...

He looked at the mindless ruin of an Elf before him. "I thank you, My Lady," he heard himself say, "I will consider your offer. But I do not wish my slave to be subjected to this spell at this time."

She watched him closely. "Do not hesitate too long," she warned. "It may be easier to do it now, and here. But any way you will decide you should be mindful of his needs as well." She shrugged. "In his case, casting a spell like this on him may be true mercy, and more reasonable than the ill-advised other solutions you have tried."

She turned back to the punisher. "We shall take our leave of you. Please go on." Gesturing Aragorn to follow, she started to walk back to the entrance of the glade.

Aragorn cast a last glance to the slave between the posts. He saw the whip meeting the bound Elf's back, saw the flash of ecstasy and pain on the slave's face, and he felt sick. Forcing his own stomach under control, he turned and followed Galadriel out, through the secret tunnel and the hedges, on the long and tortuous path back to her garden.

"Think in peace, but do not think too long," she said when finally he took his leave. "I have given orders to prepare for you and your slave the special talan you used the last time you were here. It is protected in the same way as the place we have just visited – there will be no sound reaching outside that you do not wish others to hear. You may find that useful."

Aragorn fought for control over his stomach. "Thank you, My Lady," was all he could manage.

She gave him a gracious gesture and dismissed him, and he nearly fled. He was cold with fear.

_< i>Legolas! He had to find Legolas!</i>_

_____________________ o _________________

 

TBC

 

Notes

 

[1](http://astele.co.uk/henneth/Chapter/Details/22373#sdfootnote1anc)In the movie, this is Legolas' line. Here, however, I have given it to Aragorn, for obvious reasons. In addition, I am lifting heavily from the movie in this scene, but I shift around a few important words. I do this with full intention. Please bear with me. All lines lifted directly from the movie in this scene are marked with a star like this.*


	54. Terrible as the Dawn

Authors note:  
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found here: <http://lotr.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=10373>  
  
Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful Nancy and the most generous and always encouraging Randy! In addition, my thanks go to Lethe and to the kind people at Lizard's Council. Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.  
  
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: Mild BDSM. Please heed the warnings!  
  
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. Apart from that, in this chapter I am directly lifting dialogue from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of the Rings" (Extended Edition) and occasionally also some descriptions and dialogue from J.R.R. Tolkien's book "The Lord of the Rings" again. Both original and closely paraphrased dialogue will be marked with proper reference notes where it is quoted. Please bear with me!  
  
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:  
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'  
  
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.  
  


* * *

**LII.** **Terrible as the Dawn**

 

  
The Fellowship was still busy settling down in the tent they had been given. Aragorn lost no time. He homed in on Gimli, whom he found standing at the side. "Where is Legolas?"  
  
Gimli shrugged. "In the bath house, I presume. I've seen him go there before you left. Why? What is the matter?"  
  
Aragorn reined himself in. It would not do to panic, not now. But still... He grabbed the shoulders of the Dwarf. "Gimli, listen to me! This is very important! It is of the uttermost importance that none of you leave Legolas alone. Not while we are in Lothlórien. Do not let him wander about without your company, do not let him go alone with any of the guards and do not let him go unaccompanied if he is summoned by the Lord or by the Lady. This is vital. If he is summoned, make sure he does not go there without a member of the Fellowship, and alert me immediately. Do you understand me? You must make sure that he is with one of our company at all times!"  
  
Gimli drew his brows together and sized him with a sharp look. "Why?" he asked. "Is he in further danger? I thought the Lady..."  
  
Aragorn gritted his teeth. "In this, we cannot trust her," he said. "None of us can. Whatever favor she may have decided to show in that audience, in this realm Legolas is just a slave. He needs to remain under our protection. Please, tell the others. Make sure he is never left alone, and one of the Fellowship is always with him, even if he is called to see the Lady herself."  
  
His voice sounded desperate in his own ears. Behind the Dwarf, Aragorn saw Boromir stepping closer. "You seem beside yourself," the Man of Gondor observed. "What happened?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "I cannot tell you. Just promise me!" he pleaded.  
  
Gimli's eyes seemed to pierce him. "Would that mean keeping Legolas company when he is in your presence, too?" the Dwarf asked.  
  
Aragorn glared at him. "Of course not! Why..." he trailed off and simply shook his head. "No. And I cannot explain any further. I have to find him, now. Just tell the others!" With that, he left his baffled companions standing where they were and ran along the path to the bath house.  
  
He was nearly frantic when he finally reached the elegant, wooden bathhouse. Legolas was just leaving. He was clad in fine, fresh garb, his hair hung loose, and he looked much better; but his familiar slight glow was far too dim, adding to Aragorn's dread. He grabbed Legolas' arms and looked into his face. Doing his best to hide the shaking in his voice, he asked: "Legolas! Are you well, Little Leaf?"  
  
Legolas looked at him with alarm. "Of course, my Lord. What..."  
  
But Aragorn could see him flinch, and his own stomach coiled. "Are you sure?"  
  
It took only a moment, then Legolas' brave facade cracked. "I am just... would you... would you hold me, Estel? Please, my Lord! I need..."  
  
Wordlessly, Aragorn opened his arms. He did not care that unlike Legolas he was still dirty and his clothes stained from the weeks of travel and grime. He just took Legolas in his arms and held him fast. "It is all right – I am here, Little Leaf, I am with you... it is all right, now..." It was meaningless babble, and he knew it. As long as they were still in these woods, there was no safety. Yet under his mindless crooning, his gentle embrace, Legolas seemed to calm. And yet... Aragorn's hands came up and took Legolas' face. Searching his gaze he said: "You are trembling. What..." Then it hit him, and he took a sharp breath. "Are you in Need, Little Leaf?"  
  
Legolas' eyes seemed haunted. "I ... I am not sure. It has been a while, my Lord." He swallowed. "I..."  
  
Aragorn shook his head in desperation. "It has not been that long since Moria – just a few days." He felt the blood leave his face. "I had thought I had been more careful that last time. _Oh, Eru..."  
  
_ Legolas did not reply. After a moment, he hesitantly said: "It isn't that, Estel. I think there is still time. It's just... I... I need you, Estel. Please... please, my Lord, may I be with you, tonight?" He sounded desperate.  
  
Cold fear recoiled in Aragorn's stomach. _No!_ _It could not be! He had just left Galadriel, she did not have the time...._ He swallowed. He could not even send Legolas to Boromir, instead. Not in these woods. And yet, all he could see before him were the empty eyes of that other Elf, his pitiful pleading to be hurt, for more... He forced the thought away. _Legolas must not know._ If Legolas ever learned of the fate of his sibling, Aragorn was sure he would not be able to stop him, and the result would be Legolas' death. He could not bear that. And yet..."Are you sure? I would... have to hurt you again, Little Leaf!"  
  
"I do not care! Please, Aragorn, my Lord, I need you!" Legolas' reply held something fierce in its tone. Aragorn could see the pain, the desperation in his eyes. " Estel, please..."  
  
He nodded. "So be it. I will be with you, tonight. Just answer me... have you seen the Lady since last we talked?"   
  
Legolas drew back a bit and shook his head no. "Not since the audience she gave us all. Why, Aragorn? What happened? I heard she asked you to talk with her – what...?"   
  
Aragorn shuddered. "It does not matter," he lied. "Legolas, I need you to promise me something. It is important. While we are here, I do not want you to go anywhere alone – especially not before the Lady! I want you to keep company with someone of the Fellowship and have at least one member of the Fellowship with you at all times. This is of the greatest importance! If she summons you, if you are ordered to attend to her, do not go there alone. Ask somebody to go with you, and send for me. Make sure you are accompanied by one of the others until I arrive. This is an order! Please, Legolas, I need you to promise me that you will do this! Now!"  
  
Legolas stared back at him. He was positively alarmed, now. "Estel – why, my Lord? What happened?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Don't ask. I cannot tell you. Just promise me. I need you to do this!"  
  
"Estel..."   
  
"Promise!" he demanded, and after a moment, his slave finally complied. "Of course, my Lord. I will obey your orders, I promise."   
  
Aragorn sighed. "Good! Thank you! And now, I believe it is time I take a bath myself. I fear I am already smelling like an Orc," he said. "I require your assistance," he added with a rueful smile. "I fear I spoiled the efforts you took to wash off your grime."  
  
Legolas looked a little calmed, but still uneasy, and Aragorn gave up on lightening the mood. "Assist me, Little Leaf," he just commanded. "We have not had a time of privacy to ourselves since Moria."   
  
Legolas shot him a quick look. He seemed relieved. "I am honored to serve you, my Lord," he said and followed Aragorn back into the bath house.   
  
  
_________ o ________________  
  
  
The bath was calming to Aragorn's nerves. Legolas' gentle ministrations, the familiar closeness of his slave, soothed his sense of alarm. And yet... Trying for a casual tone, Aragorn said: "I missed you, Little Leaf. I feared for you, these last few days. To know what you had to do for us, and having to agree to it, was... did they treat you well? I heard what you said to Galadriel, although I do not understand why you decided to spare them. But was it the truth?" _  
  
_He felt Legolas tense under his hands and shook his head. "I am not angry," he said, "not with you, anyway. I just don't understand. Why did you spare Haldir?"  
  
Legolas swallowed. Hesitantly, he looked up to meet his master's gaze. "I did not spare Haldir," he said. "She would not have gone after him. I spared Orophin. She told me..." He shuddered and shook his head. "I cannot say. Please, my Lord, do not ask! Orophin treated me decently. He did not deserve..."  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. A sudden image sprang up in his mind, and he shuddered. _The beaten prisoners back in that glade..._ _Galadriel had said she used that spell for punishments. She said she even had considered once to put a milder form of it on Arwen...  
  
_ "I can imagine," he said. "Do not fear! I shall respect your decision." He shook his head. "I am glad you are all right and this is over. And to think a few months ago I even contemplated giving you to one of these Elves..."  
  
He felt Legolas cringe and caught his face between his hands. "No! Look at me!" he commanded. "It will not happen! I will never give you up to them! Not now! Not as long as I have life left in me!" He saw the still present fear in his slave's eyes and closed his eyes against it. "Do not worry. I was a fool back in Imladris. But it won't happen now." _**I would kill you first!**_ But hedid not say that aloud; in this wood, he needed to guard even his thoughts. Opening his eyes again, he saw Legolas' astonishment at his fierce tone, the question in his gaze, and shook his head, mouthing silently: _'Not here.'  
  
_ Legolas nodded his understanding. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to Aragorn's face. "Estel..."  
  
They heard a knock. "Aragorn Dúnadan?"  
  
Legolas paled and stepped back. Aragorn turned around and grabbed a towel. "Yes, what is it?"  
  
The door opened. It was the Elf who had earlier called him to the Lady. His face did not betray if he had heard anything of their exchange; he merely bowed to Aragorn. "The Lady has sent me to show you to your _talan_ for this night," he offered. "If you are ready? The meal will be served at the camp of your comrades in half an hour."  
  
Aragorn sighed. "Yes, we are ready. Give us a few minutes to clad ourselves. Then you may lead the way."  
  
  
________________ o _______________  
  
  
The meal was short and frugal, and it was pretty quiet, since Legolas refused to answer any more questions from his comrades about the last few days, or the audience with Galadriel. The conversation then turned to Gandalf and to the lament for Mithrandir they could hear sung around them in the trees. Legolas refused to translate the laments, too, and Aragorn had not the heart to do it, either. _'You were wrong, Mithrandir, in your hope that even the destruction of the One would end this misery. You were wrong on many things. And yet, what hope is left if we don't trust in you?'  
  
_ He did not dare to voice that, though. So he bid the Hobbits, Boromir and the Dwarf an early good night and asked the two warriors among his comrades to keep an eye on the company. Then he and Legolas went up to the _talan_ Galadriel's guard had shown to them. It was a small one with just one big room set around the trunk of a tall tree some way from the camp of the Fellowship; the platform in front of the entrance left just enough space for their boots, the trap door and the water tank. The interior consisted of a broad bed, formed from a low, wooden platform set on one side of the hut and soft furs, a small wash stand, a big chest, and some strategically placed slings, hooks and ropes. Even a yoke was there, which could be hung from one of the big wooden beams that supported the ceiling, and a number of fine waxen candles. A small lantern lamp at the trunk of the tree provided light and fire. A few yet unlit candles on holders at the walls and at the trunk offered additional light if needed. Beside the bed, a rack offered a place for their garb, pack and weapons.  
  
Aragorn felt his mouth go dry. He took a quick inspection of the chest. Yes, he had been correct; it was well filled, and the collection of toys, whips, paddles and restraints could even match his own back in Imladris. Some of the toys were familiar from earlier and well-recalled occasions when he had a chance use them on his slave, some he had seen before but never used; and some were completely new to him. He felt a stirring in his groin and gritted his teeth. Only a few weeks earlier he had dreamed about this occasion, had longed for the privacy, for the collection of toys and the exquisite possibilities to play which this very _talan_ offered. He had felt hot desire course through his veins at the thought.   
  
That seemed to have been ages ago, at the moment.  
  
He felt Legolas step behind him, felt the heat of his body against his back as his slave spied over his shoulder. He heard his dismayed hiss. Blindly, he raised a hand and stroked over his slave's head. "Hush! I am not sure yet which of these I'll use on you, tonight, if any at all. I shall try to be gentle."  
  
But even as he said it, his groin stirred again and he felt heat course through him. _Just a few blows with that delicious paddle, just to see how Legolas would react to that; just to hear him hiss in dismay when it hit his flesh... and that interestingly formed carag... it seemed to glow, made of a kind of stone. He longed to try it out. Then there were clamps, and needles... and these candles, the best kind, with the most expensive wax, it burned hotter than normal candle wax, and smelled much better. Perfect to use on his slave's skin..._   
  
He felt his breathing quicken and felt the body of his slave shiver against his back. Legolas' carefully controlled voice hit him. "It will be my honor to serve you, Master." A hard, audible swallow. "In any form you shall decide."  
  
The fear and dismay of his slave, as well as the resigned acceptance, were palpable to him and made him shiver. _Brave Little Leaf! He had just given him his consent, had he not?_ And yet, and yet...  
  
He turned around. Legolas swallowed and took a step back. Aragorn hardened his voice. "Kneel!"  
  
Wordlessly, his slave obeyed.   
  
"You know that if we do this I will have to hurt you tonight, and that I will use many of these toys on you?"  
  
Legolas' voice was a dry whisper. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
"And yet, you are willing to serve me? You are asking me for it?"  
  
A heartbeat of silence. Then the answer, another whisper. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Look at me!"  
  
Legolas complied. Aragorn could see fear, and yet longing and desperation in his eyes. "Please, Estel... I need you tonight," his slave said.  
  
It was a breach of rules, as they were already in the game and he had not been addressed or allowed to speak, but Aragorn did not care. He felt his groin tighten. He took a deep breath. "So be it, Little Leaf," he said again. "But remember, I do this at your own wish." His voice was raw and croaky. "Undress! Ready yourself for me. And light the candles!"  
  
Legolas obeyed. While he was busy, Aragorn rid himself of his weapons and his pack, then he turned back to search through the toys in the chest. He chose a couple of paddles and two different whips, and the strange, glowing _carag_. It seemed warm to his touch, and his mouth watered in anticipation, wondering what it would do. He chose a few of the exquisitely worked clamps, and a velvet roll of cloth adorned with jeweled needles. There were all sorts of pebbled staffs and a number of different restraints. He chose four buckled leather straps that seemed to fit Legolas' wrists and ankles, and a broad one for his slave's neck. There were five different flacons with oil, as well, and Aragorn tried them out, choosing one that was smooth and not mixed with any irritant. He wished for no lasting cruelty, tonight.   
  
He also registered a sixth flacon, and sniffed the contents. He felt the blood leave his face and set it back. _**Sogo nen aniron**_ **!** **1** The poison could make a slave more sensitive and it would heighten his desire, but it was dangerous. It was a necessary part in the casting of the Mael-Gûl spell; he had taken a small amount with him on the Quest because he had expected to extend the spell to one of the Lothlorien Elves, to give Legolas an option for survival once Aragorn would die; a ludicrous thought now. But to use it merely for sport? The thought made him shiver. He closed the trunk and took the chosen items with him to the bed. The sight that awaited him when he turned took his breath away. Legolas knelt before him on the floor, completely naked and head demurely bowed. His skin glowed in the light of the candles, and he looked like a feast waiting to be consumed.  
  
Aragorn let his eyes rake over the supple body and took a deep breath. "You are beautiful!" he said. "You do not know how much I have dreamed of seeing you like this again. Just you and me! I cannot wait to taste you again, tonight!"   
  
He saw Legolas flinch at his words, and desire coursed through him. Legolas' hesitant answer hit him.   
  
"It... is my honor to serve you, my Lord." There was fear and yet longing in his voice, and Aragorn had to swallow hard against the hotness in his stomach.  
  
"And you will! Go to the bed and kneel on it! I will bind you for this." His voice was raw. His breath caught as Legolas complied and knelt on the bed the same way he had before on the floor. "Hands behind your back! Touch your ankles! Present yourself to me!" he commanded. Legolas obeyed and spread his thighs, arching his back and pushing out his chest. His muscles rippled under the strain of the position, and yet he remained motionless and obedient, waiting to be bound. The sight sent hot arousal through Aragorn's body. He stepped close and placed the chosen toys carefully on the bed, so that his slave could see them. A shiver ran through Legolas' body at the sight, and Aragorn's arousal grew. He felt himself harden. Swallowing against his raw desire, he reached out and let his hands wander over the soft skin, the strained chest and stomach, the hardening nipples, the rippling muscles of the sides, the unmarked thighs, and the yet limp maleness of his slave. He felt his mouth watering at the thought to bring that cock alive, to ensure his slave's arousal despite the pain he would yet start to inflict on him this night. But first...  
  
Taking Legolas head with one hand, he placed a kiss first on his throat, then his mouth. Legolas opened up for him and he tasted sweetness, the first kiss he had had in weeks. He finally came up for breath and sighed. "You cannot know how much I missed this!" he murmured. "Beautiful Little Leaf! Let me bind you for me!"  
  
Kneeling beside his slave on the bed, he carefully applied the restraints, making sure they sat snugly but not too tight. When he was finished, Legolas' wrists were bound to his ankles, securely keeping him in his position. Aragorn smiled. Taking one of the whips – the small, slender one – he stood up and let it slide gently over his slave's naked skin, his sides, his chest, toying for a moment with Legolas' nipples. He saw the shiver running through his slave, and felt it answered in the shuddering of his own skin. His breath caught again. He let the tip of the whip wander upward, let it touch Legolas' mouth.  
  
"Kiss the whip!" he commanded.   
  
His slave obeyed. Aragorn let the tip of the whip caress his slave's cheeks, let it wander down the throat again, the nipples, the chest over the stomach to Legolas' most private parts and then his thighs – then he raised it high for the first blow. He was completely hard now. Just a few hits...   
  
His slave opened his eyes again and looked at him, and in his eyes, Aragorn could see fear, but also complete acceptance; even a kind of longing.   
  
_Longing for his blows._ For a moment, it was not Legolas he saw, but the writhing body of that other slave, tortured and used, and yet still mindlessly craving for more. He saw again those empty eyes, the mind completely gone, longing, begging for another bit of torture... Shocked out of his arousal, Aragorn dropped the whip and hid his face behind his hands. He dropped to his knees, trying in vain to force the image from his mind. "I can't!"  
  
He heard Legolas' shocked intake of breath, the alarm in his voice. "Estel? Aragorn, what...?"  
  
He shook his head and rose. Staggering to the bed and freeing his slave from the bonds, he just stammered: "Forgive me, Little Leaf! I cannot do it. Not tonight." He could not look him in the eyes, for fear to see that other image again. The idea to flee, just run away, he dropped the moment it occurred to him – the _talan_ was some forty feet above the ground. No way could he manage the rope ladder right now. So, he just sat on the bed and looked away.  
  
"Estel..." Legolas' tentative hand touched his shoulder, and he felt his warmth behind him. He shuddered.   
  
So trusting. So ready for him. Only a few weeks ago the willingness of his slave to serve his needs, to bear the pain for him despite the fear, would have worked on him like strong, intoxicating wine, driving him on, arousing him like nothing else. And now...  
  
Fighting for his voice, he finally managed: "I am sorry, Little Leaf! I just can't. Not now." And yet... _his slave had been willing and welcoming to him. He had been ready to serve him tonight, ready for the pain, willing to play... would it be so bad to have this every time when they made love? To have Legolas' complete acceptance, having him enjoy this, longing for their play as much as Aragorn himself? Why not accept Galadriel's gift? Wasn't that what he had dreamed about?_ He shuddered, forcing the thought away. _Not like this_! Not with this kind of twisting of his slave's desires, with a curse that would destroy any hope Legolas might have for his salvation.   
  
The touch of his slave vanished from his shoulder. He felt movement behind him and turned around.  
  
Legolas knelt on the bed but turned his back to him. He shivered. "I am... I am sorry I offered myself to Haldir without your consent, My Lord." His voice shook. Aragorn heard the pain and despair in his tone. "I... I request punishment. But... please, please don't send me away. Even... even if you are... d-disgusted with me..."  
  
Aragorn groaned. Kneeling beside Legolas, he took him by the shoulders and turned him around. "Legolas! _Melethron!_ Look at me!" he commanded. "Please! Look at me, Little Leaf!"  
  
Hesitantly, Legolas obeyed. When he met his gaze, Aragorn said: "I am _not_ disgusted with you! This is not about you, or about Haldir. It is about me. I could never be disgusted with you! I love you! Please believe me, Little Leaf!" He took his stricken Elf into his arms and said: "I cannot speak to you right now, But... please believe me that I do desire you. And I will be with you tonight if I can. Just not right now."  
  
Legolas' hesitant voice hit him. "Estel? What..."  
  
He shook his head. "Not now, Little Leaf. Not while we are still in these woods. Just remember that you are not to walk around alone. Not under any circumstances!"   
  
He felt Legolas nod against his shoulder and searched his gaze again. He saw understanding dawn there. His slave mouthed: 'The Lady?'  
  
Aragorn nodded. He saw Legolas pale. Setting a finger to his lips, Aragorn shook his head, and to his relief, Legolas nodded. Aragorn took a deep breath. "I will try again in the morning," he offered. "Until then, let's just be together. And from now, we will spend our nights with the fellowship again. As lovely as this _talan_ is, I think we will do better if we share the tent with our comrades."  
  
He saw Legolas' eyes widen at his words and pressed his lips together. There would be questions about this, questions he had no intention to answer. Grimly, he thought: _'I shall have to find a way to keep you distracted, melethron_. _I cannot tell you the truth. Not if I do not want to lose you!'_ But for now... "Disrobe me!" he commanded, and was satisfied at the puzzled expression on Legolas' face. Usually, he delighted in the power of staying clothed while he had his slave fully naked, at his bidding. Yet for now he would luxuriate in another kind of play. "What are you waiting for? I think the command was clear enough!"  
  
It took only a moment, then his slave started to follow his command. Slowly and reverently, Legolas began to loosen the bonds of his master's jerkin. When he was finished, he removed the belt and freed his master from jerkin and shirt, folding them tidily and setting them aside. Then he knelt to free Aragorn of his boots. Finally, he started on the bindings of the trousers, mutely asking and receiving permission before he touched the knots that closed the trousers over Aragorn's groin. He kissed the bindings before he opened them, and kissed his master's trousers again before he finally set them aside.   
  
Aragorn watched him, moving only when the procedure demanded it. The quiet worship and reverence of his slave was to him like a strong wine, especially as it was given freely. When Legolas was done and knelt again before his naked master, mutely waiting for his commands, Aragorn took a moment to enjoy the sight. It would be a while before he would see him like this in such perfection again.   
  
Finally, he spoke. "Very good! Now, come here and kneel on the bed. Hands to your ankles, as you did before. I want you to keep as immobile as you can, whatever I will do. Can you do this for me?" He smiled as Legolas shot him a quick, puzzled look, but then just bowed and followed his command. He did not bind his slave this time. _Let's keep this as different from the treatment of that other slave as possible!  
  
_ When Legolas knelt for him again, thighs spread, torso bowed backward to give his master the best possible access to his chest and stomach, Aragorn began a slow and determined worship of his slave's body. Kissing and caressing his way down from Legolas' throat over the breastbone and the chest – teasing the nipples gently with tongue and teeth – he had to smile over every shudder, every little gasp he managed to elicit with his ministrations. Finally, he reached Legolas' groin. Standing up, he knelt before the bed and licked his lips at the sight of his partner's semi-erect member. "Don't move!" he warned again, and homed in on his prize. He was delighted at the wonder in Legolas' eyes, at the little moan as his mouth closed over his companion's flesh, at his slave's quickening breath... When Legolas finally came, gasping Estel's name, Aragorn felt pride and joy. The spectre of that other slave was gone.   
  
Aragorn held Legolas' back while his slave spilled himself and helped him keep his strained position. Then he came up to share the taste of his companion in a kiss. "You are beautiful!" he said. "And now, _melethron_ , it is time that I should take my pleasure, too." He sat beside his slave on the bed and tapped his thighs. "Over my knee! Face down. Present your back. I wish to leave a mark or two on you, before the night is over!"  
It took a moment for Legolas to disentangle himself, and Aragorn subtly helped him to straighten up and follow his orders. When his slave had followed his commands, he took the time to caress the smooth skin, the muscled cheeks in appreciation. Then he chose one of the paddles and set to work.  
  
It took only a few whacks with the paddle and a few more lashes with one of the whips to get him hard and ready for his slave. Legolas' willingness and ready obedience, combined with the warm afterglow of seeing him come with Estel's name on his lips, for him and him alone, was enough to heighten his arousal, and made it easy to ignore the other toys. He sniffed and tasted the oil before he used it to make sure it held no hidden drugs, and let Legolas ride him to completion. The sight of his Elf, relaxed and glowing again with pleasure and with joy, was glorious. He felt relief and gratitude. They had done it! The spell was fed for at least another fortnight. Spent and satisfied, Aragorn dragged Legolas down to the bed beside him, swept the used and unused toys down to the ground, and settled down to sleep. He hardly noticed the blanket Legolas tucked over them.   
  
  
_______________ o _____________  
  
  
When Aragorn awoke again he was alone. The small single room was lit just by the gentle, dim light of the lantern over the door; the place beside him on the bed was empty and cold. In a short moment of panic, he sat up and looked around him. Legolas stood at the door, clad in nothing but a shirt, and stared out in the night. He had obviously been up for some time; the toys Aragorn had swept to the floor had been set aside neatly beside one corner of the bed, ready to be used again if Aragorn should decide so.   
  
Aragorn cleared his throat. "Couldn't sleep?"  
  
Legolas turned to him and bowed. He hesitated. "My Lord... Estel..."  
  
Aragorn just nodded. "I feel some unrest, too. Let's return to the camp. I feel safer when we stay with the others."  
  
He set aside the blanket and stood up. Quickly dressing himself, he took a moment to return the toys into the trunk. The glowing _carag_ he had not used that night felt warm inside his hand, and it seemed to resonate with every sound. He weighted it in his hand and experimentally ticked it with a finger. It _hummed_.   
  
Sighing, he returned it to the trunk. Before he left, he cast a last, regretful look at the _talan_ behind him. There had been a time when a place like this would have been close to what he had imagined for his future with his slave. No longer.  
  
He turned and closed the door on that specific dream.   
  
  
__________________ o _________________  
  
  
The way down the ladder was easy. It was deep into the night, already, but still the darkness was lit by some remaining lanterns, and they made it down with hardly any noise. The lament of the Elves for Mithrandir had stopped; there was an eerie quietness in the wood. Legolas was glad of it. He felt a haunting unrest in his mind, and he strained all his senses to hear what may be the cause, but the night was silent. Even the trees around him seemed asleep. But Estel had felt this unrest too, and he had foresight... yet whatever it was that had disturbed him earlier, he could not grasp it anymore. They made it back to the camp in silence.   
  
The Fellowship was fast asleep, save for Gimli, who harrumphed when they tiptoed back into the tent. "Ah, back already. I wondered when you would decide to reappear," he grumbled.   
  
Aragorn did not reply. He just walked over to his bedroll. "I hope you took some rest, Master Dwarf," he said. "We will move on come the morning."  
  
Gimli shrugged. "Boromir had the watch earlier this night," he said noncommittally, and Aragorn gave him a nod and settled down to sleep.   
  
Legolas did not join him. He stayed outside and stared into the night. He heard the Dwarf approach him.   
  
"So, aren't you going to take rest as well?" asked the gruff voice.  
  
Legolas cast him a short look. "I cannot find sleep, Master Dwarf. My dreams are haunted, and something is giving me unrest. I will take the watch, if you desire."  
  
Gimli shook his head. "There is no need. It is Pippin's turn to take the watch."  
  
Legolas nodded. He took his gear and weapons and made to leave.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
The Dwarf again. "I need to take a walk, Master Dwarf. I wish to have a look around."   
  
Gimli just nodded and took up his axe. "Very well. Just let me wake up Pippin, and we can take a walk."  
  
Legolas drew his brows together. _"We?"  
  
_ "Your Ranger said not to leave you alone," the Dwarf called to mind.   
  
Legolas regarded him for a long moment, then he just sighed and gave in. "I would be honored to have your company, Master Dwarf," he said. He watched as Gimli shook the Hobbit awake and said a few words to the yawning Halfling, then the Dwarf joined him on his path.   
  
Legolas had no clear idea where he was going. The uneasiness he had felt earlier was back, full force. He did not know where it came from. And yet... more and more, the silence of the wood around him troubled his senses. This was the center of the Golden Wood! He had been here only a few times before, but never had he seen this place so dormant. It was as if the whole wood held its breath, waiting for something...   
  
"He has hurt you again, has he not?"  
  
Shaken out of his thoughts, he turned to his companion. _"What?"  
  
_ Gimli's face was unreadable. "You walk more stiffly than you did this afternoon. And you favor your left leg."  
  
Legolas thought of the whacks of the paddle he had received. Aragorn had been laughably gentle compared to what he had put his slave through at other times. And yet... "It is nothing."  
  
The Dwarf gave him a long look. "Don't give me that. You asked me not to tell the others he had sold you out, and I did not; they came to that conclusion all by themselves. But I have seen you being hurt by him several times, now – and you cannot tell me that he had reason to punish you again. That Dúnadan should ask you for forgiveness on his knees! Why did he do it this time?"  
  
Legolas paled. "You cross the line, Master Dwarf," he said icily. "If you wish to keep me company, I invite you to keep to your own business."  
  
Gimli did not budge. "Your _master_ told us to keep an eye on you, for your own safety," he said, "and I plan to do that – even if it is in regard to Aragorn himself. So, answer my question!"  
  
Legolas bit his lips. "It is his right..."  
  
"We have been through that," Gimli said. "And that is not an answer."  
  
Legolas remained silent. The Dwarf growled. "Look," he said, "I can see why you do not dare to rebel, and why you think you owe him your loyalty. What I do not understand is why you still defend him!"  
  
"He is my Lord," Legolas said exasperated. "What do you expect? I am glad that I belong to him!"  
  
"Why?" Gimli asked. "He hurts you, he abuses you on a regular basis, and yet you all but love him. What did he do to deserve that?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. The whole conversation had grown somewhat surreal, even more so as it reminded him of his earlier exchange with Orophin. And yet...   
  
"Aragorn is a noble man..." he began, but he was interrupted by the Dwarf.   
  
"Noble? He sells you out, he shares you with others, he abuses you at will, and you call him _noble?_ " He shook his head. "My understanding of noblesse seems to be different than yours, Master Elf."  
  
"He did not sell me out," Legolas said. "And you do not understand. Estel... Aragorn has grown more grim over the years, ever since his destiny comes closer. But he was once a sweet and noble man, untouched by any darkness. You cannot know..."  
  
Gimli shrugged again. "He is not pure, now," he observed. "With everything he did to you just on this quest, you cannot tell me he is free of any darkness. So, why do you still love him?"   
  
Legolas shook his head. "You do not understand! _I was the reason why he became corrupted_. It was my fault!" He balled his fists and ended in a whisper. "He fell into this darkness just because of me!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"He... he became my master to protect me," Legolas said. "And everything that happened afterward sprang from that. He has seen to my needs and taken care of me ever since. Even if I left aside my oath to him, how could I then condemn him?" He stared down at the Dwarf in sheer frustration. "Aragorn is a good man, and a great leader of his people. He is a noble warrior. Don't judge him by an evil not of his making," he finally said. "He has done what he could for me and more than I could ever have demanded."  
  
Gimli looked back at him with drawn brows. "How? How could you have caused him to be corrupted?"  
  
"I..." Legolas did not finish his sentence. He had paid no attention to the path he and the Dwarf had taken, but now he realized where they both had been going. This was forbidden territory. He looked around, and his earlier unrest hit him again. He heard voices. Then he became aware whom they belonged to.   
  
He turned to the Dwarf. "Gimli! Run back to the camp! Tell Aragorn to take the company down to the river. I will meet him there. We must leave these woods immediately!"  
  
The Dwarf looked confounded, but he shook his head. "Your master said not to leave you alone," he objected.  
  
"There is no time for that, now! _Run!_ " And with that he set off as fast as he could manage, without another look at his companion.  
  
  
___________________ o _________________  
  
  
  
Frodo woke from an odd dream. There had been voices arguing somewhere in the distance, and an odd, white light, but now the camp surrounding him was silent. All he could hear was the quiet sighing of the wind. His companions slept all around him. Not far distant he spotted Pippin sitting slumped against the trunk of the big tree, apparently fast asleep. Gimli was not there; Frodo assumed the Dwarf had sought the bushes to relieve himself. He was about to turn around and huddle back in his blanket again, when he saw a movement.  
  
The Lady was quiet and silent as a ghost. Her feet moved without sound. She looked regal and determined, and she did not pay him or the others in the camp any attention. And yet he felt as if something had called him. As if his feet had developed a will of their own, he stood up and followed her.   
  
Onward she went, over bridges and past lanterns and small springs and beautifully carved statues, through round doorways and mossy steps hewn into stone. She never looked around and never spoke. Frodo soon felt as if he walked inside a dream. He quickly lost all orientation, but on he went, without hesitation. Finally, he found himself inside a grove where a clear well sprang forth out of a rock and flowed into a basin. Another basin, hewn of stone but dry, stood in the middle of the grove. Galadriel took a silver ewer and filled it with water from the well. All her movements were ruled by serenity. "Will you look into the mirror?"*2  
  
Frodo started. It was the first time she had acknowledged his presence. He stepped carefully closer. "What will I see?"*  
  
She gave him a look from the side. Stepping to the basin in the middle of the grove, she raised the decanter and poured a clear stream of water into the stone-carved bowl. Her voice was clear and deep.  
  
"Even the wisest cannot tell, for the mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass."*  
  
Frodo stepped closer, mesmerized by her voice. The crystalline, gleaming water seemed to draw him in. He leaned over the basin and looked into the reflecting surface. His own face stared back at him, calm yet hesitant. Then it disappeared and he saw -  
  
 _Elves fighting Elves, a brutal battle, without mercy. One of the leaders held his sword high, shouting orders. The fighting halted. A ragged, battered warrior, clad with a crown of leaves, stepped forward and knelt before him, laying down his weapons, and with him knelt the line of warriors behind him... a different image, Aragorn, sitting haggard and stony-faced at a bed. On the bed was Legolas, face grey and shot with dark, eyes closed; he was lying much too still. Aragorn buried his face in his hands and broke down over the quiet body... Then he was back on Caradhras, and there was Boromir, holding the chain of the ring, his hand about to close on the trinket. Aragorn stood behind him, hand on the grip of his sword, and about to draw on his companion... Another image, and he saw himself, running, the world around him blurred as it was when he had donned the ring. Behind him, somebody raged, tried to follow, fell... he saw himself on a hill, backing away, Aragorn standing before him, face cloudy and threatening... Elves in a battle against Orcs, beleaguered, dying from cruel, flying bolts... A great city, besieged by an army of Orcs, too great to be imagined. Somehow he knew that this city had to be in Gondor...Then he saw his home back in the Shire, but it was terribly changed, the trees around the streets there all cut down, smoke rising over strange structures. Hobbits in chains were led away, ducking under a whip, among them Sam. Orcs ran about, killing and being cut down... Then all of these fast-changing images disappeared and were replaced by a great, red eye. Sauron himself was looking back at him!  
  
_ Frodo gasped, but as much as he tried, he could not look away. The water started boiling. The Ring slipped out from under his shirt and dangled free, mere inches from the water. He heard Galadriel's warning ringing out in his mind, _'Do not touch the water!'_ and with a last bout of resistance, he grabbed the Ring and threw himself back. He landed on his back, on the ground, panting.  
  
Galadriel watched him from the corner of her eye. He heard her speak both with his ears and directly in his mind.  
  
"I know what it is you saw, for it is also in my mind. It is what will come to pass, if you should fail. The Fellowship is breaking. It is already begun. He will try to take the Ring. You know of whom I speak. One by one, it will destroy them all."*  
  
Frodo looked back at her. "What of the Elves? The battle..."  
  
Galadriel nodded. "The war of Elrond. His mind was conquered by his Ring. Long ago, he threw the Mirkwood Elves down, threatened to kill them all, to the last man, women and child. To save his people, Thranduil, Legolas' father, capitulated. But it was not enough. They have been promised freedom, should you succeed. But it will never be enough. Elrond will not give in. He has created that foul spell, which you have seen at work, and he will not let go."  
  
Frodo stared at her. There was something, at the back of his own mind, but he could not quite grasp it... "What of Haldir? His demands..."  
  
Galadriel looked down, then up again. "Ah, yes. He overstepped his bounds and acted in this against our will and without our consent. He would have been punished, but the Mirkwood prince forgave him for his deeds and asked him to be spared. Legolas has a great heart and he is a noble offspring of his people."  
  
"I saw him at his death bed. Will he die?"  
  
Galadriel looked down again. "The spell that holds him bound cannot be broken. Even should you succeed in destroying the Ring, I fear the life of the young Mirkwood prince is still forfeit. Only he who has created that foul spell knows all its secrets. Of course, maybe the Master of the Ring may find a way to break or bend the spell, for it is wrought with the power of one of the Three, and he who claims the One knows all the secrets of their bearers. But should the One ever fall in the hands of Sauron, then he would use that evil to enthrall his enemies... and so, all free people of the world."  
  
Frodo shuddered. "But Elrond – he is your ally, even..."   
  
She nodded again. "Yes. Even my son in law. And yet, he has deceived us all, turned us against the Mirkwood Elves, against ourselves... you must understand, Frodo, the Rings are powerful. Elrond was not for nothing once counted among the Wise, but he turned from that path long ago. We did not know how deeply he had been corrupted. And when the deed was done, our realms lay under siege, for Sauron, in his guise as Necromancer, had returned again. Now we are all caught in this deadly game. If we come through, Celeborn and I will see Thranduil's people free, but I fear those who are under the spell will all be lost."  
  
There was something, something in the back of Frodo's mind, but he paid it no heed. It was as if his own lips did not follow his volition anymore. "Then with the Ring, you could set them free? And you could break the spell, and end this evil?" he asked.   
  
She hesitated. "Maybe. But..."  
  
Frodo heard himself speak, and he could hardly believe the words his mouth was forming. "You are wise and strong. I will give you the Ring, and you will end this evil and the threat of Sauron. You will bring us peace." He stood and held the Ring on his flat hand. Something deep in his mind screamed a warning, told him to close his hand, but he could not move. The white light that surrounded her seemed to have frozen both his body and his mind and held him captured, and his hand, his fingers did not follow his commands anymore.  
  
Galadriel came closer. "You offer it to me freely,"* she said. "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this..."*  
  
She spread out her arms. Darkness seemed to break out of her, mingling with that white light. Her voice sounded like thunder.  
  
"Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, beautiful and terrible as the dawn, everlasting as the sea, stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me, and those who would do evil shall despair!"**  
  
She set her hands together and looked back at him. "I accept. I shall take the Ring and replace the rule of Sauron. And I shall see that those who do evil and deserve my wrath shall be justly punished."  
  
Frodo watched her approaching him in abject horror. He could not move. He tried to close his hand, he tried to run. But he was frozen on the spot and could not move an inch, and the white light seemed to fill his mind and even catch his breath. He could not even scream.  
  
Then somebody broke through the bushes surrounding the glade and tackled him, and in that moment of distraction, his fingers followed his orders again. All he could do was close them over the hard, round band of the Ring and keep them closed around it as he hit the ground. The air was driven from his lungs, and he gasped. Suddenly, he could breathe again. He looked up and stared into the pale face of Legolas.   
  
"Can you move?"   
  
He nodded, unable to speak. Behind him, he heard Galadriel scream.  
  
Legolas nodded back at him. "Then get up and run!" he commanded. When Frodo did not follow fast enough, he simply grabbed him and jumped up, and started back on the way he had come from. Behind him, Frodo could hear Galadriel rage: _"You will pay for this, Mirkwood spawn! You and your people will be sorry!"  
  
_ Legolas did not slow down. Frodo had trouble shaking off the last vestiges of the trance that had held him captured. He heard shouts and screams behind him, now not merely of the Lady of the Wood, but also from many Elven guards. Then, an arrow hit the tree they had just passed. Legolas rounded another tree and dodged a small bush without slowing, only to come to a sudden stop. Frodo heard his breathless whisper. "Can you stand?" He nodded and found himself set down.  
  
Legolas had straightened up already, and had drawn his knives. The next moment, somebody broke through the hedge before them. Frodo swallowed a shout. But it was Gimli. Legolas had already put his knives back in their sheaths. "I thought I told you to go to the camp!" he said.   
  
Gimli shrugged. "I did. Aragorn and Boromir have taken the Hobbits and are on their way down to the river. I chose to go back to you. Aragorn wanted to come himself, but he has to lead the others; he is the only one who knows the way." The Dwarf sounded smug. "What is happening?"  
  
"The Lady tried to take the Ring. We need to leave," Legolas said. "Gimli..."   
  
The next moment, he drew his knives again. An Elf dropped from the tree beside them right into their midst. It was Haldir. The next instance, he had Legolas' knife at his throat. He gasped and raised his hands. " _ **Daro!**_ Peace! I have come to help you!"   
  
Legolas hissed. "Why should I trust you?"  
  
"You do not understand. I spoke with Orophin. He has convinced me of your cause. But it is Celeborn who sends me now. I am here to help you!" Legolas did not relent. Haldir gasped again and said quickly: "My Lord foresaw the temptation of his wife. He sent me and my guards to watch out for such a case, and here we are. Please – I am here to protect you!"   
  
Gimli hefted his axe. "Tell me to kill this Elf for you and I will," he drawled.   
  
Frodo heard shouts in the crown of the tree above them, and the sound of bowstrings. More arrows hit the trunk beside them, and Haldir flinched. Legolas removed his knives and sheathed them again. "We have no choice but to trust you, but if you lead us in a trap, you'll die!" he said. "Go ahead!" He turned to Frodo. "Can you run?" Frodo nodded.   
  
"Then let us move!" Legolas said, and they ran on. Haldir went ahead, and Gimli followed. Legolas kept close by Frodo. In the trees above them, they heard cries and singing bowstrings, then a horn. Frodo lost all sense of direction, following the two Elves around trees and bushes, over paths and through thick hedges where there was just dim light. He thought that their flight led them downhill, but he was not sure.  
  
"How do you know that we can trust this bastard?" Gimli gasped between two gulps of breath.  
  
Legolas' answer was grim. "I do not. But he is leading us into the right direction, and his guards above our heads cover our retreat," he said. "For now, we have no choice!"  
  
On they went, the sound of horns and shouts close behind them. Finally, Frodo saw ahead of them the gleaming of light between the trees, and after a few more steps, the wood retreated. Passing through a gap between two trees, they entered a wide, open space – a glade at the shore of what appeared to be a lake, gleaming under a bright, full moon. There stood Aragorn, among several Elven guards, staring grimly into their direction. Boromir, Merry and Pippin stood close by, and so did Sam. When Aragorn spied them, he ran in their direction.  
  
"Legolas! Gimli! Where is Frodo?"  
  
"I am here," Frodo said. Aragorn turned to him. "Is it-?" he asked, and stopped himself.   
  
Frodo just nodded. His hand still clutched the Ring; it had been like a hard cold bulk within his fist, pulsing with cold ice. He did not dare to look at it here among all the strangers. How had he ever thought to give it up?  
  
Aragorn's face showed relief. "Keep it close," he hissed quietly. "Do not expose it here, and do not show it anymore. Not to anyone!" He turned to have a quick exchange with Legolas.   
  
Frodo felt Gimli's hand on his shoulder. "Come, lad," the Dwarf said, "I'll bring you to the others!" And he stayed at his side until they reached the rest of the company. Then, Frodo was nearly tackled by Pippin, followed by Merry and finally Sam. He breathed easier now he was back among their company, and used the safety of Sam's embrace as an opportunity to put the Ring back where it belonged on the chain he still wore around his neck.   
  
A moment later, Aragorn and Legolas walked back to them, followed by Haldir. With him was the noble Elf they had met at Galadriel's side the evening before. _Celeborn._ He bowed to Frodo. "Frodo of the Shire, I have to ask forgiveness for the actions of my wife. It is with great sorrow that I say I feared that this might come to pass. I am glad to see that you escaped unharmed."  
  
Frodo just nodded. He did not know what to answer. The Elven Lord turned. "Aragorn..."  
  
"There is no time for this! We have to leave," Aragorn said grimly. "We cannot afford to stay here now – not with the thing we carry. We must leave the Wood immediately."  
  
Celeborn nodded. "I have prepared boats and supplies for you in the event that this would happen. But you cannot risk setting out now. The followers of my wife presently hold the mouth of the river. You would not make it through their arrows. And at the eastern shore..." He did not continue. Frodo recalled with a shudder his view from the tree at Cerin Amroth just the day before, the darkness he had seen lingering over Dol Guldur at what he had been informed was a stronghold of the Dark Lord.  
  
"You need to wait till we have gained the entrance of the river, or at least till morning," Celeborn continued. "In the cover of the morning mists, you might succeed in what you cannot do under the brightness of the moon."  
  
Aragorn made a face. "Maybe if we took the long way...."  
  
Celeborn shook his head. "There will be scouts out there who are waiting for you now," he said. "You would never make it. I will do my best to quell this rebellion. You need to wait." He offered Aragorn a last nod and left.Haldir followed him. Several of the other guards remained and took posts a few steps from them.   
  
It was a long night. Sometimes they heard horns in the distance. The three warriors of the Fellowship busied themselves with packing their supplies, while the Hobbits huddled together. Frodo did not know when sleep took him. When Sam finally shook him awake, grey light filled the glade and the water was clouded by a fine, white mist. Dawn had arrived.  
  
  
_______________ o ________________  
  
  
Legolas packed the supplies into the boats. They had been given bundles with _lembas_ and other food, fresh blankets, and fine grey cloaks of the kind the Galadhrim wore that would protect them from the cold as well as serving as camouflage. They might help averting their discovery, if they ever made it out of the Wood; yet Legolas doubted that they could grant them a safe passage through the mist over the river. They could not avert any arrows, nor an evil spell.  
  
He, Aragorn and Boromir had discussed the manning of the boats earlier this night. They had agreed to place the Hobbits with the two men, and Legolas would share his boat with Gimli. The Dwarf was unused to a boat, and the four Hobbits lacked the strength to drive the vessels forward with the speed they would need to escape. So, Aragorn would take Frodo and Sam, Boromir Merry and Pippin. Legolas was glad. Usually, he would have expected to accompany his master, but Gimli's company seemed to him oddly comforting. The Dwarf had shown to Legolas that he respected him, and he would not pry, as the four Hobbits might. This might actually be a sort of relief...  
  
He heard soft steps approach him and looked up. Haldir! Legolas flinched. The Marchwarden seemed hesitant. "May I speak with you?"  
  
Legolas felt his face close. "What do you want?" he asked briskly.   
  
Haldir hesitated."I came to tell you that the rebellion has been vanquished. We have gained the mouth of the river and we control the western banks down to Anduin. You will be able to leave now without a further hindrance." He hesitated for a moment. "The Lady and the Lord have come to an agreement – the Lady has given in and told her followers to lay down their weapons. The civil war has been averted, though there is no way to know how long the peace will hold. You better leave within the hour."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I shall inform my master," he said neutrally.  
  
Haldir shook his head. "There is no need. Celeborn himself is giving him the tidings." He nodded to the place where the company had slept the night, and Legolas saw Aragorn in a quiet discussion with the Elven lord. He turned back to Haldir, who had taken a step in his direction. Haldir shifted his feet. "Legolas -" he swallowed. Then he straightened up and bowed with careful dignity. "I wanted to apologize. For what I did to you, what I made you do – it has been grave injustice. I have been blind. I ask for your forgiveness."  
  
Legolas did not reply. Haldir looked away. "I do not expect you to simply give me absolution. You hardly have a reason. But what you did last night..." He sought Legolas' gaze again. "Orophin convinced me. He feared the Lady would try to take the Ring. I spoke to Celeborn, and he ordered me to take a troop of guards and hinder her if needed. But if not for you I would have come too late. I do not think you understand what you have done. You saved us. You saved us all. And after everything I did to you...."   
  
"I did not do it for you!" Legolas spat.  
  
Haldir nodded. "No. But still, you saved us. And I owe you more than I ever can repay." He swallowed. "I... what I did, I did in part to help my brother Rúmil. He fell afoul of the Ladies' favor for a mistake he made, and his punishment... has made him what he is now. I thought you would enable him to regain some part of himself again. I thought... I have been blind. Orophin made me see. I am truly sorry."  
  
 _"Mistake?"_ Legolas repeated. He felt hot fury coursing through his blood, too much to still care what he said. "Your brother had a heart, and acted on it. And you call that..."  
  
Haldir paled, then his face closed down. "I should have known that Orophin would tell you the story," he said. "I beg of you not to share it with anyone. But you are right. _Orophin_ was right. This has to end. After last night, even my Lord Celeborn thinks so."  
  
Legolas stopped short. " _Was?_ Is Orophin -"  
  
Haldir shook his head. "No, he and Rúmil are fine, at least when I last met him. He had to leave, though; he and his followers may have over-reached our Lord's orders, last night, and he has decided to wait out Lord Celeborn's wrath. But he sends you his greetings." He bowed again. "He asked me to remind you of your conversation, and of the hope he places in you." _  
  
_Legolas was frozen. Open rebellion... Orophin was hunted, now. Another burden and responsibility. "May he be safe," he said.  
  
Haldir bowed his head in agreement. "Legolas – there is nothing I can do now to repay my debt, or show you my gratitude. But still I would ask you to accept this bow." He held it out – an elegantly carved and strong long bow of the Galadhrim, beautifully worked, with a quiver full of slim and deadly arrows.   
  
Legolas took a step back. Haldir sighed. "It is not mine, nor am I the one who sends it. It's Orophin's. I made it for his begetting day, but he told me to give it to you. He said that you would need it on your mission, and that it may remind you of the hope he sets in you." When Legolas still hesitated, he said: "Please. It is stronger and it has a longer range than your own bow. You may need it." _  
  
_Finally, Legolas took a hesitant step closer. "I take this from Orophin, and not from you. There is nothing that I would accept from you, Haldir of Lorien, except your blood."  
  
Haldir handed him the bow and nodded gravely. "I am not free to give what you demand, but I still hope that one day, I may find a way to repay my debt. Legolas of Mirkwood, you have my respect. And I do owe you."  
  
He offered Legolas the Elven greeting and went away. Legolas resumed packing.  
  
  
_________________ o ______________  
  
  
The mist had not lifted when the Fellowship gathered at the boats about three quarters of an hour later. They were seen off by Celeborn himself, who gave them good advice about the way, and how best to pass the mouth of the river. He expressed his sorrow again about his wife's breach of hospitality, when a shout disturbed the companies' attention. Legolas turned and saw a guard pointing at the river. He looked and froze.  
  
In a white, swan-like ship, the Lady of the Wood herself approached the company, surrounded by a number of her maidens.   
  
Legolas set his hands to his bow and noticed a similar gesture of most of Celeborn's guards around him. But the Lady was not accompanied by warriors, or at least none the eyes would reveal. Her appearance was regal and full of dignity, and her ship came alone. It gained the shore, and she stepped off and approached her husband and the company. When she had reached Celeborn, she bowed her head in a deep and humble greeting.   
  
"Peace, my husband, and well met. I have come to restore the peace, and to ask your forgiveness, and that of the Ring-Bearer."  
  
She straightened up but kept her head bowed. "Let it be known that with your help I now have conquered temptation. I am here to express my regret for what happened last night. I thought I could resist temptation, but I could not. I failed, and for that, I stand ashamed and in contempt before you." She bowed again. "I ask your forgiveness, husband of mine."  
  
Celeborn returned her bow sternly. "Lives have been lost and sorrow has been brought upon this wood," he said, "but so work the snares of the Enemy, which bring deceit and discord even among kin. I am glad to see that you have overcome them." He straightened and added gravely: "But it is not my forgiveness alone that you need to gain."   
  
Galadriel answered with a nod. She turned to Frodo and offered him a similar bow. "Ring-Bearer, what I have done last night is unforgivable. And yet I am here to ask you for forgiveness. I do not know what has come over me. All I can say is that I hope you once may look upon me with leniency, again."  
  
Frodo stood wordless for a moment, and Galadriel looked down, obviously shamed; but then, the Hobbit took a step forward. "It was I who offered that thing to you," he said, "so how can I lay blame? I thank you for your apology and accept it."   
  
Galadriel's head came up and she pierced him with her gaze, but he did not say more. She bowed again, and placed a hand over her heart. "You are generous, Ring-Bearer," she said, "and you have a great heart and the wisdom you need to fulfill your quest. I am deeply in your debt." She gestured one of her maidens to step close and took a small phial from a basket the maid carried with her.   
  
"I give to you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights have gone out."* She offered it to him on her flat hand. The flacon glistened in the sun like fire. "All our hopes now reside with you. Carry them well."  
  
Frodo seemed hesitant for a moment, but then he took the phial from her hands. He took a step back.  
  
"I thank you, my Lady," he said, "but may I ask a favor? Let it not be forgotten that it was Legolas who rescued us last night, and if not for him, we both would not stand here."  
  
Legolas flinched. Galadriel looked irritated for a moment, then she turned to Legolas and said: "Well spoken, Frodo of the Shire. We shall not forget what we owe the Mirkwood prince." Her eyes found Legolas and he froze under her gaze, for it was anything but benign.   
  
Celeborn spoke up. "Well spoken, indeed." He changed to Sindarin. "Legolas of Mirkwood, we all owe more to you than any of us can repay. So, let it be known that from this moment onward, you and your people in this wood shall be held as free. There shall be no more hostages any longer. As far as the Golden Wood is concerned, the debt of your people has been paid for good."   
  
Galadriel turned to him in obvious surprise, but then she bowed. "Well spoken, Husband," she agreed in the same language. "Thus it shall be. We shall intervene with Elrond to assure it."  
  
Legolas stood stunned. He did not know what to reply; he hardly could believe what he was hearing. From afar, he saw Aragorn's disbelieving stare. Boromir beside him looked just irritated, and so did the Hobbits. At his back, he felt Gimli's reassuring hand. "What is it? What did they say?" the Dwarf asked in a loud whisper.  
  
"The Lord and the Lady assured me that from now, my people will be free within this Wood," Legolas translated automatically. "They give my people Freedom as reward for my actions last night."  
  
"That is wonderful tidings, my lad!" Gimli beamed. "You see, it will be well!"  
  
Galadriel shot the Dwarf a measuring look, and inclined her head. "Indeed," she declared benignly in Westron. "The Mirkwood prince saved me from my brief moment of madness and temptation, and so averted great evil from us all. For this, we give him our thanks and our reward." She turned back to Legolas. "I have no greater gift to give to you than the one you have already received," she spoke calmly. "Be glad, for it were your actions that have achieved this."  
  
Yet her gaze seemed to pierce his soul, and in his head her words continued, cold as ice. _**'Be known, though, that this turn in our path cannot break the spell. You still remain bound to Aragorn, your master. And also know that as of now, you alone are the last living heir of your father. Your last remaining brother died last night and at the hands of the rebels. I am sure they thought it was a mercy killing.'  
  
**_ Legolas stared back at her, chilled to the bone. He had to fight to keep himself under control. He knew he could not attack, could not kill her – any attempt, and everything just gained would be lost. He did not know what to reply. Did she speak the truth? Had Orophin – He cut the thought. She was still in his mind and following his thoughts. He swallowed. With calm he did not feel he forced himself to bow, breaking eye contact. "Thank you for the news, my Lady," he said blandly. "I shall keep in mind what I owe to you."  
  
Her words and the white ice of her presence resonated in his mind even while she spoke aloud. "Well spoken, Legolas of Mirkwood. May your path stay true and may it lead you to the reward for your actions, both for you and your people, in the end." With a last brush of coldness, her mind left him, and he was alone.  
  
He straightened up and fought for calm. He hardly heard or saw anything of the remainder of the ceremony. He looked around for Haldir, but he did not see him. When the company finally entered the boats, he felt relief. He hardly heard what Gimli said to him; grief and pain warred in his chest. The mist of the river swallowed him and covered him like a cloak. Bleakness closed up around him.  
  
  
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Aragorn moved the boat with strong, determined strokes. He did not look back. Nor did he look aside, where, in some distance, he heard the calm, regular dip of Legolas' and Boromir's paddles. He had been as stunned as Legolas had been at Celeborn's announcement; yet he had seen Legolas' face afterwards, his slave's mute exchange with Galadriel, and he guessed that there was more about this tale than he yet knew. But there had not been any chance to talk to Legolas before they left. He had suffered through Galadriel's words to him before their departure, telling him that he had been right to refuse her offer, but that she feared Legolas would die in the end for his bravery and loyalty to him, even though he may have saved his people. She also said she feared that Arwen would diminish and die if she chose to stay with him. He had been stony, told her that he would have Arwen seek the Undying Lands, and had refused to comment on Legolas in any way. He had been glad when they finally entered the boats. Maybe tonight he would find a chance to speak with his Elf. Legolas had seemed relieved he shared a boat with Gimli...

  
Aragorn was shaken from his thoughts when Frodo, sitting before him in the boat, rummaged in his pack and took out the phial of Galadriel. Frodo weighed the delicate vial in his hand, glancing at the light that shone within. Then, without a warning, he flung out his arm to gain momentum. Just as he was about to throw the phial into the water, Aragorn's hand closed around his wrist. "Don't do that!" Aragorn warned. "You may yet need it on your way!"  
  
Frodo turned to him, eyes glaring. "How can I keep this thing? How may it be of use?" he hissed. "It came from her! You've seen it. That white light surrounding her. It is evil!" He shook his head. "You've seen _her!_ The way she ensnared us – the way she spoke within our minds... She is entirely corrupted!"  
  
Aragorn bit his lips. He recalled two empty eyes, a voice begging for torture... Galadriel's offer... And yet. How could he explain to Frodo that in this moment he _knew_ , with absolute sureness and clarity, that Frodo's life and safety would depend on this very light at some point? _**A dark tunnel – danger – a threat in the dark – legs – a sudden flash of brilliance...**_ The images were too unclear to explain. Yet he was sure. Whatever else Frodo might choose to do, he must not throw away this phial. Quietly he said: "This is the light of Eärendil, the light of the Silmaril he wears upon his brow. The Silmarilli were jewels made before the sun, and their light was hallowed by the Valar themselves. They were stolen by the Dark Lord Morgoth, yet not even his evil could tarnish or corrupt them. Keep it! You may still need it at some point!"  
  
Frodo looked skeptical, but he stored the flacon back into his pack. "You speak with foresight?" he asked. "Legolas said that possessed the gift, also."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, I do, although it is not often very clear, and at times I may misread the signs," he said. "It is a gift of my line. Did you know Eärendil is one of my forebears? Let me tell you about him..."   
  
And he continued to row, quietly recounting the tale of Eärendil, and his search for finding hope where all hope had been lost. When Frodo finally drifted to sleep under his voice, Aragorn had found his calm again. The tale had cleared his head.  
  
He would find a way to see Legolas and his people free. Whatever the cost. Whatever he would have to do to achieve this.   
  
Even if it meant he had to gain a crown, or win a war to do it.  
  
  
  
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\- End of Chapter Nine -   
  
  
To Be Continued  
  
Notes:  
  
  
1) Sogo nen aniron: Drink of water of desire. A drug causing sexual need.  
  
2) As mentioned, in this scene I am quoting dialog directly from the movie, although I am altering a few words in some sentences to fit my needs. Directly quoted dialog is marked like this.' Lifted but slightly altered dialog is marked like this.** Please bear with me!


End file.
